Intertextus
by aaron vig
Summary: Shepard had seen that the Reapers were coming, then the Heretics and the mercenary armies now sent to stop her. But she never could have predicted the other-world power and opportunity she'd be given... by Cortana and the Master Chief. Mass Effect/Halo
1. Baby Steps

My second crack at fanfic, and here's hoping you like it;]

Also, I cherish your reviews, which played such a big part in how much I learned, please, I want to hear suggestions about what you might like to see or develop. Cheers;)

Mass Effect is owned by Bioware and Halo is owned by Bungie.

* * *

She was never meant to be a stealth vessel, the Forward Unto Dawn, quite the opposite in fact. Cruisers had simply become prohibitively expensive to produce, even before Reach fell. Frigates like her were meant to pick up the torch as the fleets' firepower; fewer crew, a more economical package, even upgraded with the stolen Covenant slipspace sensory suites and Cortana's own guidance algorithm to bring it all together.

Though too late to benefit from ongoing plasma weaponry research, she was to be the first many sister ships to take to the firmament against the Covenant. Then, all too ironically, she was still dockside in the Bombay shipyards when Truth's fleet arrived and swept the defense grid clear of any and all that stood in the way.

She was only timely enough to arrive as Lord Hood's final sacrifice to join the Separatist fleet; mixed crew, half a requisition of Archer missiles and MAC rounds, and however many marines and ODSTs could be scraped together. Finally, off to a mission that had all the chance of success as their own survival.

A few hardened smiles rose from seeing the navy's odds finally matching those that fought ground side.

In the end, none of what had stood before the frigate had been enough to finish her; not the Covenant, not the Flood, not even the resurrected power of the Forerunners... she had simply been in the way as a great door to stars had slammed shut, leaving her behind.

The Dawn was now an impromptu lifeboat now, meandering on solar wind and residual drift from Halo's firing. Though now it wasn't her promise of salvation that marked her as before, it was her total undetectability from either eye, radar or slipspace scan. Not even the green and red of her port and starboard warning lights was active, cut off as the early warning systems that managed them were cleaved into Earth's atmosphere with the rest of her forward sections.

There was only the minutest stirring now, 1100 hrs sharp everday for an hour in the cryo-bay from its interface pedestal, its sentinel giving quiet vigil for the ship's lone occupant set against the rows of empty stasis tubes.

Cortana.

A small figure set amongst the blackness around her, always emerging with her back to the only thing in this ship worth her attendance. Whatever distraction the bleeding of stores and kit from the Dawn's cleaved midsection had died away months ago, alongside the supply of materials that weren't magnetically embedded or locked away.

A fleeting glance to the holo-emission was all that was needed to realize she was a vision, a luminescence that could rival any beauty in its shapeliness and grace of movement. Too many attending naval staff had been caught off balance by gazing at her too long, a sting of embarrassment as they realized what their time aboard was doing to them.

Even at the hundred plus hours of monitoring over these long months, she still needed a moment to calm herself before taking the sight of the bay's exclusive occupant, supine beneath the strobing glow of its red light.

_What do I do, Chief? Keep you on ice with the rest of the perishables, or do as you ask? Why didn't you take the five minutes for the pre-freeze injections like anyone else would? You really know your constitution will hold up or are you going to ride this one out on luck as always? God... even if it was one less thing to worry about._ Cortana eyeing her own reflection as she pondered.

_"Wake me. When you need me." _She really had believed that was all she needed to hear, but soon realized different. How much need? Her anxiety over her deterioration or when she truly began to feel herself collapse? Let him rest or put him through the torture of de-cryostatic emergence without proper facilities? Even the joy of her observance had been stripped away as the days past; anxiety overwhelming her memories as her thoughts turned inward.

A solemn stare held her beautiful face as her eyes lay on the soldier beyond her reflection, the unheard whirling of filters clearing the pod's atmosphere of inhalant belaying her decision. She noted another reminder of his haste as her read-outs showed no intravenous intakes for saline or stimulants to help the thawing along.

_Please... just don't let me be there when your luck finally runs out. _Cortana pleaded as her mind filled with what was about to come; a joyful reunion or his silence as he observed her deterioration and rampancy?

Her mind spun deeper into wilder outcomes and speculation, interrupted by the unfurling of the cryo-tube that brought her mind to the present... and the realization she had neglected his re-animation for over 4 minutes.

_Oh, way to stay on top of things woman._She berated as her hands clasped her face in embarrassment. A moment later her eyes returned to her charge, forgetting all else as she felt anticipation for the first time in 3 months.

As liquid vapour turned to icicles as they hit the cold of the vacuum, there lay his slumbering form as they dissipated into the darkness, the Spartan looking as though he had fallen asleep at attention. Even now his form was imposing, the Mjolnir's contours and dimensions a portrayal of the juggernaut housed within, as though it was needed to contain him as much as protect him.

She was cut off from bio-monitering now, the heartbeat and steady breathes she had monitered with such care for so long returned to the Mjolnir once again. Her eager smile began to fade as the time strung along from seconds to over a minute, a rising pain beginning to grip her emotional centre as the body before her lay unmoved.

"Chief?... Chief?... Get up." Her tone empty as fear began to take hold. "Chief, come on! You've done this a hundred times before, this is no different!"

_You're bigger then any pain you've ever faced, Chief...what's wrong? _Why_ aren't you moving?_ _**You can't leave me alone like this, not now! I need you! You can't be...**_

"**Get up, Chief! Get up! Please!" **Cortana's panic was threatening to overwhelm her. She had never extrapolated a life of hers without him in it, not even in the lonesome hours she had spent where any and all things creep into a lonely and broken mind.

"**Chief, please you can't leave me...PLEASE...just get up! Get up!" **Her hands clutched the sides of her head at what was before her. Even her small figure began to backpedal away from his cryo-tube, her pained eyes unable to turn away.

_No...No...Please no...Not like this..._ Her thoughts consumed her. _Who's going be there for me now? Who's going to be my strength?...What have I done?...Why didn't I wait?...What do I have to live for now? _

Legs that had never known gravity began to buckle, crushed by a force she was never meant to withstand. Her eyes belied nothing as she began to sink, ready to collapse as a lone aural marker in her receiver chirped.

A gravelly voice broke the intercom as a deep-freezed voice shook itself out, a low rumble as the body that it was attached to shifted its thawing parts. Cortana's collapsing form held mid-fall as her eyes fused to Chief's minute adjustments.

A black gauntlet slowly curled into a fist as its wearer brought it to his visor, feeling the tortured flesh underneath as his form re-animated; seizing the pod's frame with his other as he deftly began pushing his armoured form from the tube that had held him for so long.

Intense blue eyes that had been filling with hopelessness now bubbled with a rage as Cortana began to stand herself up; fingers pulled at her cropped hair with enough force to rip it if it had been real.

"**You...**_**YOU**_**..." **Cortana's entire form pulsed anger as she marched towards the edge of the emitter. "**You son of a...! ****You could've given me a heart attack if I had one! An 'hello', a wave, or maybe something other than playing dead while I'm throwing a conniption here, huh!"**

Cortana's face blanked as the harshness of her words sank in, and stood silently as the Master Chief's form glided to her with an aquatic grace, seizing the edges of her podium deftly as he arrived. As much as he hated fighting in zero-G, it hadn't been an excuse for him not to excel at it.

Cortana's gaze shifted to her fidgeting hands as he loomed over her, flush with shame as she felt his eyes fall on her.

"Sorry...it's just...you _scared _me." Cortana finally gazed up at the Chief. "You're all I have out here."

A small nod was all that was returned. _Typical Chief. _She mustered a small smile at how little he thought of her outburst. Looking unto her blue light illuminating his armoured torso, she felt a twinge of longing beside her relief, a loneliness that hovered just to the side of all her patience.

_Guess it's just silly to think that after all this time I'd be hoping for a 'welcome back' hug_,_ huh, Chief? _She let her mind wander.

"It's been a hundred and three days, Chief. All that's changed is... me. I can't self-diagnose anymore, and I can't tell you what's wrong, just that I'm feeling something now that I haven't encountered before. I'm not sure if anything can be done, but I remembered what you said, so... here we are." Cortana feeling self-conscious as she admitted to such an empty handed situation. He was no tech, she was already damaged, and now things could only be getting worse.

A pause was all that followed as he hovered, eyes taking in the abyssal corridors and dark as he mulled her words. Where could a mind even turn to with that much pain compressing any other thought out his skull?

As his visor's golden reflection found the AI again, she saw her own reflection was mired by the remnants of his last battles, vaporized Flood and plasma residue blotching small sections out of his gaze, and as always after the de-freeze, came the outpouring of his last memories as though they were just yesterday.

"Care for a walk? My time here earlier was rushed." Chief gently asked, his own mind filling with echoes of the Dawn's pre-flight chaos and rushed preparations before the big battle.

Screaming of sergeants to bring some order to the last minute volunteers shuttled aboard, Pelican crew deployments, Miranda Keyes' freshly distributed warning order as the rumble of engines made the deck plating shiver. There were plenty of ghosts in these halls for the Spartan as well without the benefit of three months of consciousness.

Her glow flared a little brighter as Cortana listened. Whether this was him giving a distraction or stalling for time were unclear, or even an issue, but there seemed like nothing could feel more right.

Just to feel the passage of synapses as they rushed to his beating heart, to keep playing their old game of what he said to what she saw his body feel... and the always sensational rush of endorphins she could see spike in his blood every time they reconnected.

As his practiced hands extended to her processor, she couldn't help but to smile. The small wisp of podium light disappeared as her hand connected, the black of the cryo-bay re-lit seconds after as the Chief's twin headlamps sought the quickest route to the open, hell, to anything more distracting for her then here.

"Magnetic foot clamps are in engineering, Chief... that's if we're heading outside." Cortana's ill confidence was easily heard. "I haven't been able to see anything besides the interior cameras and listen for comms."

"Engineering it is." He lofted his weight to the stairwell, forgetting the still fresh pictures of combat in his mind as he focused elsewhere. The here and now mattered, and just as all other pain and turmoil in his life, it would be dealt with later.

"Much appreciated. But Chief, **come on! **Not even a 'Hi'? You ought to give a girl a little more than that after three months of playing hall monitor." Sounding more flustered then she intended.

"I missed you, too, Cortana." He spoke matter of factly as he floated down the descending steps.

"Oh? Uhm..." She struggled to speak after hearing no pause in his words. _Maybe I should just stick to enjoying the view. Oh please, I can't be __**this **__damaged. I know too much... no, I __**knew**__ too much to not share it. God, do I even have those memories left, how many..."_

"Where to now?" Chief's words cut her chain of thought cleanly as he hovered under the ENGR stencil of the bottom deck. Simply put, she conceded, but was just enough for her to smile her photonic smile as she read between the lines.

Almost as if he was reading her mind, her concerns were now quelled.

_Yeah, I know, Chief. I don't have to worry anymore... 'cause I have you now, don't I?_ She knew better then to think this was coldly going to business without pleasantries. His words were honest, if short, and wasn't to be distracted easily.

"Go three doors to the right, first yellow locker on your right, Chief."

* * *

Garrus could only feel the thousand pin pricks needling across his face as he lay in the med-bay, the dullness of the ceiling doing nothing to distract him from the pain of his facial reconstruction. Well, pain of reconstruction and the oily waft of dextro-amino fluid as the dermal regenerator's busy appendages rebuilt it into a solid wall of tissue once again.

"I once thought both Wrex and Grunt as the most foolhardy about their medical treatment, but I've come to realize my folly in you, Garrus." Chakwas' voice both maternal and professional as she observed him. "They at least had dispositions that marked their behaviour as typical, but I've read nothing of the Hierarchy's desire to see its citizens suffer unduly."

Garrus' face dared to smile before the pinch of newly rendered flesh returned his attention to his treatment. With as high a level a meeting they were due for, compounded by the tightly managed treatment schedule, something had to give. A bit of pain in order to be properly behaved and not in a drunken stupor from the sedatives was a fine compromise.

"50 000 platinum well spent, I'll say myself. The Commander's scars would never have mended otherwise, especially not with the daily stress she endures." The doctor's gloved hands quickly applied some putrid smelling salve the instant the whirring of the machine's arms stopped. "Though to be honest, I believe it was you she had in mind when she made the purchase. She's few coppers short of a full purse when it comes to her own well-being."

"Oh, most true. Shepard's personal command style based in sacrifice and coercion, not what some deem appropriate rank and file. My own efforts to re-purpose medical equipment for turian physiology her recommendation, though nulling warranty. Most commendable, indeed." Mordin's profuse talking strained all ears to keep up.

Scientist at heart, there was no way he'd have missed seeing his remodelled equipment at work on his newfound team member. "Secrecy surrounding meeting, quite intriguing. Shepard has promised something substantial to both our not inconsequential abilities and appraised our possible outcomes as quite ambitious, but well within our skill range. Though not my place to state for it maybe the Commander does wish to surprise you, my friend."

Chakwas only smiled her soft smile as she helped Garrus to a seated position, hands deftly stopping his talons from touching his newly shaped facial plating.

"They'll be an ungodly amount of itching, but you'll need to avoid scratching if you want everything mended in the next 2 weeks. Then, you can go right back to having it shot off again for the Commander." The doctor's words pinching a nerve in her patient.

_She can't know, can she? I've got all the sideways glances a man can take from Miranda as it is. _Garrus let his eyes show a bit of angst as he donned his monocle. A glimpse in a mirror displayed a handsomely re-built mandible and facial scaling, albeit without the blue face paint to match the other side.

_That'll come after the two weeks as well._

The 'whoosh' of the door signalled Mordin's departure as Garrus eyed the doctor's back in silence, quietly humming to herself as she updated her personal logs.

She'd always been the soft spoken, professional sort, but anyone had to suspect something was weighing on her mind since her emancipation from the Collector base. Her smile and kind words were always true, but he always thought there was some need being met with her new-found extroversion.

Gratitude? Or simply a healer's needs to fix those broken with renewed vigour after seeing so many perish while she could do nothing?

Regardless, he knew she would do nothing that might come between him and Shepard. She may not have thought of her as much as he did, but they certainly shared the same respect.

A freshly labelled bottle of salve and a few directions on its use, and a minute later found him moving through the CIC as he approached the air lock, the air filled with the team's small talk and predictions as the Normandy approached the Citadel's space docks. Even these many months without her proper crew, SR-2 still felt a little hollow to the soldier.

That everyone walked away was all Shepard, but a ship needs her engineers and staff like a body needs blood, not just Tali and himself 'stop-gapping' every technical fallout. These many months for their stress leave was beyond excess for his dutiful sensibility.

Every party involved was impressed by the PR coup Illusive Man was about to pull off, set to have the Citadel systems throw their recumbent arms wide open to Cerberus after so many decades of mistrust and aversion.

Just days after their return from the Omega 4 relay, the Extranet was choked with news of a windfall of Cerberus operatives now caught in a whirlwind as Illusive Man cut away entire sections of radical and xenophobic cells within Cerberus to Citadel authorities, Miranda's so called 'dead flesh and radicalized factions' that worked only from fear and extremist doctrine.

So many had made good their escape, but the Citadel now had the bulk of the human terrorist cells in custody; Cerberus had almost perfectly shed its old skin in a matter of days.

The final blow to any institutional dissidence was about to be landed in just a few hours, with Miranda personally handing over the Reaper IFF and the location of the Collector base.

Three months to have a crack at it, Illusive Man was certain to have stripped it of the premium of its tech, but he easily saw how to get the tongues of the Council wagging and convince them of the Reaper threat at long last.

It was a path almost none but he could see down, and what lay at its end; a particular skill that had his best operations director fuming as she gazed out her window. Her silhouette, as everything else about who she was, was perfect at a cursory glance. Delve a little deeper, and one would find a maelstrom of details in her mind about what was about to come to fruition.

_Yes...'It's always the little things'._ Miranda smiled sardonically. Councillors would certainly be patting themselves on the back for Shepard's reinstatement; the most incompetent spin doctor could make Cerberus' integration look par for course, now. Cerberus was about to take a stand as humanity's foremost protection, a proper division to unite its intelligence and unconventional warfare elements.

The Alliance's voucher of intimidation amongst the Council had always been steeped in its flexible and unconventional approach to fighting, but to too many insiders, it was well understood the rigidity that humanity's protection operated by. There was no glue that held the Ns, Corsairs, or any other special operations together; not their intel, cooperation, or even strategic vision.

Not until now.

A waft of pressurized air betrayed the scent of spice in the air as Miranda exited her quarters, a quick glance to the mess area revealed a steaming bowl in front their commander, seated with a solicitous look on her face as she stirred its contents.

"Last of Rupert's gumbo." She spoke without raising her head. "Couldn't believe how happy a few crates off fresh make that man. Still had made sure we had something in our guts for fighting the Collectors even after he was abducted."

"Yes, that duck stuffed with apples would have made a proper last meal if it had come to it." Miranda's tone of business taking Shepard from her nostalgia. There was a human under all that seriousness, but her boundaries had to be filed down over months to get to it.

Their eyes met for just a moment, a quick glance showing Miranda's game face had been on for some hours now, and not about to be shed anytime soon.

"I'll be up in 5. Just be ready." Shepard tasting the chewy texture as her 2i/c took to the elevator. For all the pomp and ceremony about to follow, and inevitable press maelstrom, a growling belly was the last distraction she needed.

Ice Queen or not, there was pain brewing in her that all her stoicism couldn't hide. Tasked with leading the cannibalism of her own organization, the unavoidable dealings that this unveiling would bring to a head with her father, and then renewed anxiety of Oriana's safekeeping... there was no containing all of it forever.

Shepard let herself escape any worry for just a few minutes as Rupert's prized dish disappeared with haste. She wanted distraction now, not focus on what was about to be undone with her and Garrus after sharing what they had shared.

What lay ahead was about to see her remaining crew spread to the ends of the galaxy while half a ship was replaced, some parts and mostly bodies, and several old friends back with her and Miranda in charge.

After an awkward shuffling of bodies towards the Citadel transport shuttles, it was twenty minutes of navigating the inner Citadel and whining of eezo capacitors prodding their three transport craft along. Weren't the chariots the Normandy was by any cry, but the level of VIP commitment to this media fiasco guaranteed no premier transportation would be available, but Shepard appreciated things done while low-key.

Less cameras, less stares, less ogling by 'fans' and fanatics alike. Besides the media coverage was the security of her team, which meant even more time cramped together in economy spaces as the avoided any direct routing. But once the Presidium's docking bay fell into sight, the fireworks of flashing cameras and levitating vid-relays said there would be none of that today.

Shepard's foot hadn't been planted on the deck before the inquisition began.

"Commander Shepard, two whole years after you were declared killed in action and but have now surfaced and you appear to have taken a lead role of a terrorist group. You were sworn , as an Alliance officer and a Spectre, to protect all Citadel races against such factions..."

"Ms. Al-sumna, Thessia Free Press. Do you have any comment on the report that states you found a real Reaper, all while it was being constructed from human tissue? What was the effect of discovering it was your own crew they had been rendered down to build it?"

"Cerberus has just cast away thousands of its members in a bid to carry favour with the Council, will you be employed to retrieve the more violent elements in your following missions? Aren't reprisals feared with so many terrorists now without an organization?"

The cacophony of journalists and free-press alike rained down their questions on the little entourage, the C-SEC line of officers faltering under the pressure of bodies trying to shove a microphone to Shepard's face. With her usual calm, she walked herself to the great doors of the Council Tower, her and Miranda's images garnering a biased amount of video coverage from the press, beyond her orders for the remaining crew to participate with visors down, she wanted to keep their lives free of that particularly headache.

Jane had been the Alliance's shining girl just two years ago, and the entire Citadel thereafter. Now? So much now hung over her head, a question mark about who she was and what was being accomplished, now twisted deeper than ever on her return from the departed.

Her death had made her life the stuff of legend, forgiveness from the naysayers, and deep sighs of relief from the darkest corners of Terminus and Attican Traverse alike.

But now everything had changed. Their affiliation, her affiliation... the monotone of the elevator music was almost welcome to distract from where their circumstance had carried them all, at least in Garrus' case.

It was her silence that gave her away, it was always when something hit close heart that she withdrew a little into herself. Unlike before, she was taxed with an usual amount of time and no mission to stagnate her pain 'til later, as any commander must ask of themselves.

He couldn't place his finger on what was to come, but as all else the Commander brought to table, it would be big and wouldn't spare anyone from becoming what they were meant to be. But her dampened spirit intrigued him the most. Something was about to be sacrificed, something dear to her, and was keeping it well hidden... at least from the rest of the crew.

The turian spared a quick glance to the rest of his elevator ride-alongs, and a few notable absentees.

A few weeks of layered discussion, and every download he had available, had seen Samara off to Omega, and a few prayers of his own that she'd keep her extroverted sense of justice subdued if she really wanted to _'scythe the wicked halls'_ of the border city.

As shrewd and strategically masterful as his ops had been, he didn't operate in the time scale needed to replace the dark, twisting gears that made that criminal cess pool turn... but an asari's time just might do the trick. Maybe she would succeed where he had failed.

_And at least walk in with the advantage of not trusting anyone. _Garrus soberly thought.

Grunt had made his way back to Tuchanka, bubbling about a trip to the 'female camp' and wondering where his next big fight would be. It was a quick, and rather galling, thought for the turian to try and picture what an intimate moment meant for the krogan, or if it even qualified as an intimate moment.

A sudden image of reptilian bellowing and the rhythmic thumping of krogan scales gave Garrus a shutter before turning his thoughts elsewhere.

Thane was endeavouring to win back the love of his son, and facilitating C-SEC with an assassin's eye. Under his tutelage, Capt Bailey and his crew had already shored up so many loose ends; structural and situational awareness coupled with newer information security would tip the balance in their favour after too long in the dark about the higher organization of the criminal circles.

The whole thing certainly had the smell of Shepard's negotiation all over it; Bailey gets his entire organization revamped while Thane's son works his way through community service and into proper security work under his father's eye.

The last of the crew to leave had been the most intriguing of all... Jack and Zaede had made their way off _together_, after a meeting with Miranda no less. They both walked away from her office with the unmistakeable fire in their eyes of something bold and bloody about to happen. Days later they both boarded their ship, provided by Cerberus as sleek and outfitted as they came, and were gone with an uncharacteristic quiet.

The unfurling of the glass doors revealed the concave layout of the Citadel's most hallowed hall, the foyer lined with two small files of security and smiling diplomatic aides giving a small applause as they approached the observatory, one or two Keepers in the background going about their work with utter disregard towards the noisy bipeds.

A final line of cameras and pristinely dressed liaisons lay to each side, eager to mark this event as one they attended, every one of them smelling a turn point in the history the Citadel.

The tapping of boots on marble floors was still drown out by the clapping of applause, the Spectre looked on to the balcony as the 4 most recognized figures in Citadel space stood on the opposite edge, faces focused and tense as they prepared to accept one of the terrorist institutions that they had sworn to protect their peoples against.

As the representatives of about 430 billion citizens of their own species alone, and beyond a trillion with Citadel space, this action alone was set to cause a bigger fracture in public trust then even the Geth War.

Among the Council itself, this was still a screaming match as to what was to become of this; every world, and representative covert services, was screaming for Cerberus' destruction and lawful penalization, only to see the Extranet filled their leadership extending them an olive branch.

No one held the illusion that the fallout from this was limited to official protest and threats of breaking trade rights; there hadn't been enough pain yet.

A tidal wave had struck the Extranet about irrefutable proof of Reaper existence in advance of this ceremony; the Illusive Man had certainly woven a lovely web, with Cerberus now poised to protect the Styx from the opposite bank. Pilfering their own ranks had simply been their two coins for the boatman... proof of their conversion. And as this cleansings' foremost director, Miranda Lawson was still struggling with her own actions as the ceremony began.

"As we gather here today, united as a cooperative of our great civilizations, we bring with us many fears and misgivings as to what we are about witness." The asari Councilor began. " Many have begun to question our very legitimacey as a government for our choices, and we are here not only to explain this unprecedented step, but to attest to the truth of what this pact has brought us; the irrefutable evidence of Reaper existence."

The gasp of the crowd welcomed the wall projection, a spread sheet of Reaper class dreadnoughts dwarfing the turian cruiser placed beside them for comparison.

Miranda heard the words being spoke, the assurances of that the salvaged Collector base was to lay a foundation of technology to counter them. She even heard congratulations and praise heaped upon Shepard, her team, and the Normandy... but nothing reached her heart as her own thoughts rampaged. Had she been in her right mind and present, the barely contained scowl of turian would have made her glow; the prying eyes of his salarian counterpart speaking loud and clear to his foreknowledge of her organization.

The asari's face remained placid, but the Cerberus officer's own eyes kept checking her own Councillor, whose eyes held that same liquid cool that Shepard's did. He was known for having a 'peoples touch' for holding such a vaunted position, though it was suspect it was to let Udina handle the pomp and pageantry that so many diplomats and ambassadors expected.

Just the touch she could admire.

Her own name broke her reverie as she stepped forward, her gloved hand extending the Reaper IFF to spindly looking attaché, accepting it with shaking hands and quickly placing in a glass cubicle at the head of the pedestal for the eyes of the galaxy to see.

She might have a let a torrent out about the security and how exposed IFF was, but she gave only a smile as she felt the ripple of an eezo field in her veins as she walked past the stand. A nifty sense born of being a product of element zero herself, the goose bumps on her arm told of a deflection field around the Reaper's little trinket to withstand a slug from Shepard's Cain itself.

_At least there's some security sense to be had here._

There was too much politics here for her taste, too much fanfare and predictable commentary. There was too much work to be done, and she knew full well whose lap it was about to fall in.

Even now, as each Council member keyed in their authorization to this pact, she couldn't hear their words or scant applause from the tower's floor as the seal was finally united. The quiet chimes of the pedestal controls should have sounded like fireworks and the consummate sound of all Cerberus' work come to fruition... but her senses still registered nothing.

Cerberus had protected her, employed her to her full ability, and had never faltered in its goal, just sometimes falling to the side as Jack's experience had demonstrated. There hadn't been doubt, just the drive to move forward, for all humanity, and now...

She could almost feel Cerberus slipping away from itself. No, not Cerberus even by name anymore.

"**Directorate of Strategic Intelligence and Deception**" was its new mantle, as see-through as it was needed to settle itself into a more official channel and away from the beast it embodied.

But it had been _her _beast she had so fervorously served, and now had just beheaded it as only her skill and ruthlessness could have. It was only pain she felt as she walked past the retreating crowd of diplomats and analysts as they scurried to put everything they had just witnessed into the annals, and the inevitable and painful process of integration and formational shake-outs as their elements began to intertwine as one.

But Miranda certainly wasn't about to leverage them any pity for what must be done to see humanity protected, especially not after seeing what was truly waiting for them out there.

Not after losing the place of safety that Cerberus had always been for her.

And certainly not after handing Zaede and Jack the contracts, and the means, to make the worst of their dissident cells disappear.

* * *

The magnetic pads were working as advertised, even for the half ton of soldier that plodded along the Dawn's outer hull. Ample use of maintenance crew's re-breather ports had extended his time outiside by several hours already, Cortana de-compressing 3 months of thought for every second of their march. A few constellation projections and numerous time/distance estimates, cursory hull inspections showed that, besides being cleaved in two, the remainder of the Dawn was still remarkably intact.

But the Master Chief hadn't missed what it was; she simply wanted to see more of the stars after so long waiting.

Projections on the Arbiter's survival, where emphasis was like to be placed in reconstruction, and commemorations that they could expect to see of the Chief once they returned. Aside from the odd question, he only listened as she poured onward, moving backwards through their timeline with aplomb.

"Can you imagine her nerve? Practically handing the Admiralty proof that the Covenant knew where Earth was and Parangorsky cut off my counter-weapons development and kept me dissecting Halo for ONI. And here I was thinking there couldn't be a more convoluted bastard then Ackerson." Cortana spoke as the two continued.

"No matter how many times I tried to convince that old bat this wasn't repurposing their plasma weaponry, she kept ranting on about 'resource shortages' and 'time being too short'. Just... **God**! My EMP array would've broken up any orbital bombardment before it came anywhere near our fleet, just thousands of burst electro-magnetic charges venting plasma into vacuum and hundreds of Covenant ships with their pants around their ankles."

"If she would've just gotten over herself, she might have realized my plan was the soundest and I wasn't just trying to outshine her and her little branch just to be spiteful. Even for all the voice scrambling software she had installed in my pedestal, I could always tell she was out of her element with me. She was so used to simply living with everyone around her so subdued, I actually saw the chink in her armour; she was afraid of anything she couldn't control. It just so happens I'm bound by protocol to follow their lead even when I know there's a better way... it's just how I'm built." Cortana sounding quite contented.

"And that's _ever _stopped you?"

"Ha. Ha. It just so happens, mister, I've gone up to bat more than a few times for you when no one was looking. After seeing your picture in Halsey's lab, one look into those eyes and I knew that... that I..." Cortana catching the words she had almost blurted out.

_Sure, 'I did my homework'. No, I knew there was no one else I wanted after I saw that picture. So serious... those brown eyes told me something. And after that I made sure we were a pair didn't I?_

Chief's pace came to a full stop as his speakers went mute; Cortana silent was said much more then it should've. His head canted to the side slightly as he waited, a gesture that said what we wanted to listen now and nothing else... even if she was a voice in his own mind.

She might have expected it if she was a body besides just being a voice, but until now she hadn't thought about how he had done this every time he listened intently. Almost as though she was as real person to him, and being given the same respect.

_Always looking after me, too, aren't you?_

Chief had always been Halsey's favourite, and having been born as Athena had from Zeus, it had never been far from the AI's thoughts; the question of whether her own predilection for him had really been her own or her creator's. Even in her first days in Halsey's lab, his mention had always brought something out of the doctor, a shine that could actually reach beyond her job focus. But this was something to be settled at another time.

"Well, anyways, I might've dropped a 'resource and trial marker' for my project in Hood's outgoing messages and a quiet reminder about Parangorsky's 13 year stay past mandatory retirement, but you know Regret short-changed any of those plans." Cortana trying to seal the conversation. " Besides, we still have to inspect the port side thruster before we can decide where we can figure any plans from here."

Though her words were heard, the Spartan remained still. It wasn't an awkward tension he was grappling with, but something seen from the corner of his eye as a small world began to eclipse the nearby sun; brilliant enough to polarize his visor as they walked. Though falling into shadow didn't bother him, something unusal about this earthly body coming into focus did.

For a world's sea to reflect back some light was natural, it wasn't natural for its nightside to be glowing in a gentle blue light. Even in the contrast of the world's sunset, dotted sequences of illumination could be seen from orbit, in distances that must have been in the thousands of kilometres to be visible to the naked eye.

As the last wisp of sunshine burned itself from view, a silver surface revealed itself to the castaways in patterns and partitions that they could recognize immediately, even for the million fold enlargement of the technological marvel unveiling itself before them.

The acute and proper angles, the sequence of its geometrically perfect continents, and certainly not least, the god-like scale of this installation pointed to one civilization alone for its origin.

Forerunner.

"A whole world, Chief. This installation is a whole world." Cortana was in awe. "A last bastion of their people, or a Dyson's sphere, or who knows what else." She paused as she spoke what was a fleeting hope just moments earlier. "Maybe our way home."

"Then be ready to be RSVP'd. We've got a liasion already." Chief pulling the MA5B from his back as his eyes caught a familiar sliver aproaching from the surface. Too far away to see its shape, they had fought with, and against, too many of them not to recognize it just by its blue 'eye'.

A sentinel. They changed roles too easily from friend or foe, so the Spartan wasn't taking any chances with this one, even if it may be the only way to see themselves on this new installation.

"I know what your thinking, but we have more options then that. You're a Reclaimer, remember, and they just might be here to welcome you." Cortana spoke distractedly as she began priming an energy transposition from monitering the ship's systems to transmitter and shielding of the Mjolnir. She wasn't about to take any chances here, either.

"If you have any ideas, I need them now." Chief spoke as he checked his equipment. Seven full magazines available, but no bubble shield, exposives, optical camouflage, or any other tactical assets from the Elites contribution to the Dawn's armory. This was a nightmare from any fighters position: no fallback within reach, no cover, and with the exaggerated stepping needed for the magnetic clamps to be planted, any attempt at speed would see them adrift in space.

"Receiving its hails, now. Negotiating." Cortana matter-of-fact as the sentinel halted several hundred feet away, a distance the Master Chief recognized immediately as the outermost range for its beam weaponry. Having cannibalized more then a few of the sentinels for that particular payload, he knew too well how little time they took to cut through armor and shielding. He also knew sentinels never came one at a time, so his rapt attention was on their nearby space for any more of them as Cortana worked quietly.

She never did anything quietly, or at least she never _did_. It was enough to hear her carrying on about anything as he listened, but why he was awake right now wasn't lost on him. He was the Master Chief, right? He could make anything right, according to legend. What was there in his accolades to dispute it? He was a man, but it didn't mean he wasn't worshipped as indomitable and unstoppable... but everything was different with Cortana.

If you live, you'll die. If it's made, it'll break. As it was for any infiltrator, his martial prowess behind enemy lines was built on being able to master enemy weaponry and technology, and then cast it aside as something deadlier or more prudent was come across. But Cortana wasn't just gear to be thrown aside, ever, as his past exploits had clearly demonstrated.

AIs were built as the bridge between the systemic cohesion and efficiency that only a super-computer possessed, and being able to couple that with the dexterity, imagination and intuition that a human could bring to the table. The simplest way to make this bond welcomed, and not feared or scorned, was to adorn their new caretakers with familiar, disarming, and often beautiful forms. Cowboys, goddesses, and many other guises that conveyed their strength and purpose, but intrinsically they had built to be of _service_ to man, not their ruler.

There was a purity in the moment the Spartan and the construct shared at that very moment, a true display of the strength each brought to the other. His strength had taken them where no other could have, with her ability to dominate, connect and interwine with the technologically dominated battlefields and enemy installations as he couldn't.

Also in this moment, it was displayed that this symbiosis had changed. He was here for _her_ now, _her_ fragility he was meant to mend. Her insecurity had awoken him, and from that, they may happened upon the key to their return... but only if Cortana could do as she had before in the state she was in now.

He could hear his own heartbeat and the thrumming of air scrubbers in the silence of their exchange, broken only by an irritated huff as Cortana plodded along with the sentinel, which she insisted was "_just being stubborn". _A pregnant pause later, and the results were finally in. Turning in place, a small flare of its thrusters and the sentinel was heading back towards the installation and Cortana lit up the helmet's speakers exuberantly.

"Ha, piece of cake. Good news and great news. First, we're not 'Reclaimers' according to our little friend, we're _scrap_. It's an expeditionary variant that was checking out the blip on its screen, that's us, and is now on it's way back to get a few thousand of its buddies to come and say 'Hi'."

"You couldn't have just told it to piss off?" Chief's curiousity piqued.

"No, that would be rude. You never turn away helping hands when its time for the heavy lifting, unless you'd prefer to crash-land the Dawn and hope for the best." Cortana's trademark fire seemed to be back in her voice.

"Land?"

"Yup. This installation is about to be our new drydock in about twenty three minutes." Cortana happily gushed. "All you'll have to do is enjoy the view as I maneuver us in."

Before any image of what may happen entered his mind, countless dots of light began to emerge from the nightside of the Forerunner world, the blue eyes of the sentinels come to whisk them away from the surface. Not the small groupings as they had encountered on Halo and the Ark, this was a multi-kilometric span of machines coming, set to consume the Dawn and drag them down to what passed as their refuge.

Those in need have to have faith in their caretakers, for strength and assurance, but here and now there was just doubt. AIs, even as Cortana had stated, had to run events past their human element, even in the inevitable event they would reach a better conclusion and faster. She had just handed the Dawn to these machines, no words or thoughts crossed, wholesale. Even with so many allowances their bond held them to, even with her brazen personality, she had never just taken extreme actions without a word or consideration.

Just what a mind without regarde for others would do; too inwardly focused to see other's dispositions in context.

Perhaps a mind that had turned rampant in his absence.

There was no time to turn events around now. He could only wait and see what was about to unfold as the blue light of a thousand machine emissaries began to illuminate the surface of the Forward Unto Dawn, his shadow traipsing in every direction as they plunged to every exposed section of black hull. Now it was his turn to wait and see if any good would come of this risk.

Even so, he _was_ the Chief after all. He had a part to play and wouldn't be caught being coy.

"Well, then... let's get to it.


	2. Chow

Hello people, just a heads up that it'll be 2-3 chapters before the X-over, but I'll do my best to entertain you between now and then, and of course, explanations for how everything happens;]

Bioware owns Mass Effect, Bungie owns HALO. (And I owe them so much;])

* * *

For all the bluster and bravado officers tended to place on planning and execution of operations, Operations Chief Ashley Williams could only find a readily blurring line between her job and theirs lately. The who, where, what, and when of how the killing was supposed to go down was an officers burden, and the maintenance, discipline, and cohesion of it fell to the non-commissioned ranks.

Or as Gunny Ellison had so poetically put it, "_To un-fuck things_."

A sloshing of hard-suits through knee deep water brought her thoughts to the present, her platoon done with the last of Ilos' demarcation lines, finally cleared building by building and room by room... again. Anyone with a hand in the first expedition knew it was an abortive effort before it started; Shepard's passing had sounded the death nell to any of her pet pojects, even one as grand as Ilos.

That the VI wasn't operating wasn't why it was all abandoned, it had simply been the excuse everyone was looking for.

All assets scattered abroad to shore up the Traverse and securing the Citadel while they re-built, the operation couldn't have been more fractured if it had tried. No one wanted to believe the Reapers were real, that all life had almost been lost in just minutes at the Citadel's gate; to acknowledge that meant to be inevitabley bound to act on it, which no one, or species, had been willing to accept.

Not until today.

Or technically, three months ago when the Collector's base had been seized by none other then humanity's resurrected Spectre, and glamorized across the cosmos today. The spectacle and media frenzy that it had whipped up had reached the Corsairs, deep recon at the Skyllian frontier, and even her crew here, omni-tool displays playing out the ceremony so often there was no avoiding it, even if anyone wanted to... which Ashley did more then anything.

The meander of the camp's search lights finally pulled her gaze from the ground, daring anything to come close enough to endanger those inside. A deadly mistake to any who dared, Ashley knew; the auto-cannons the lights were slaved to were ranged out to 1800 meters past the 400 meter perimeter the early warning systems provided them, making them just as much a trap as defence.

She could hear the scuffing of boots on the ancient flooring, exhaustion a foregone fact of the marines from their last sweeps; at least the naval staff kept the perimeter for them. Nice the marines could deploy in force and not babysit the camp, but too much trust had been placed in this so-called re-writing of these 'Heretic' Geth in her eyes to just abandon the orbital defence entirely.

At least not by anyone here you had actually fought them.

Raising a weary eye to the 100 foot walls of the catacombs, she realized just how little of this place she had taken in in her work here... or two years ago. Just the cost of too much focus, she knew, but that's what it took to be a Williams in the Alliance. This little village of prefabs was her responsibility amongst this enigmatic colossus, its scurry of bodies and heavy machinery her concern to keep everything running smoothly.

Anything to do here, with anything to be found here, was above her pay grade and not her worry... her marines were.

"Alright boys, nice work. You've earned your rack tonight. Cooks are on Sunday routine, so you'll get breakfast right up to 1000, and that also means suits and rifles get a wipe-down. Dismissed 'til 0700 Monday." She spoke candidly, punctuated with a chime of her omni-tool that killed any hope of early sleep.

"**VIP in prefab A3 requesting your company, Chief Williams. Turns out the brass got a lot of their funding for this expedition out of this asari, so nothing but smiles. See you at orders 1100 tomorrow. Lt-Col Bayeux."**

_Oh, the good sir and his charming manner._ A quickly glanced showed her destination several rows over from her barrack, and set off with all thoughts towards prompt diplomacy and hasty return to quarters.

Besides the perimeter towers taking up the night watch, very little stirred in this little camp beneath the stars. Humming of generators, the odd break of the skylight by freighters with the ongoing salvage work, but the air remained cool and thick with the smell of rotting vegetation.

Approaching her destination, the oval shape of their helmets always giving the asari away, whoever it was quite focused on her data-pad as Williams made her approach to A3's entrance. The asari hastily put her work aside with a green smile for the marine, disarming and curiously... familiar.

"Wait... Shiala, right?" Ashley staring at the palour of the asari commando. "Geez, I thought my sister was crazy for dyeing her hair red, but skin tones? Far out."

After a short laugh that didn't reach her eyes, Shiala finally spoke. "Not quite, just a side-effect of my time amidst the Thorian, though my biotics may be a bit longer on the mend. I feel almost shamed by such conventional armour, but if I'm to fulifill my duties from now on it will have to do." Running a hand over her ablative plated get-up in lieu of her commando leathers.

"Wait... they kept you _inside_ the perimeter? Damn, you've got more combat experience then whole _encampment_ put together, why'd they keep you behind?"

"Even some years after Matriarch Benezia's death, there is still some stigma attached to her inner circle from her choice of affiliations." Her intense eyes softening for just a moment. "It seems any good I do will have to be done with scrutiny for some time. But please, pay me no mind. Our benefactor is expecting you, and was hoping to surprise you, so I shouldn't keep you any longer."

With a smile and a nod, Ashley strolled past, only to pause at the prefab's door. "Shiala, living with someone else's decisions is just... I know. Believe me, I know."

With the hiss of the door closing behind her, thoughts quickly turned to her own life, one of being the name of humankind's only dent to its indomitability. Weaving around several floor containers, a room full of dug up history seemed just sickly sweet to the marine as she made her way to the second floor belcony past the Prothean salvage.

Marines were supposed to be what stands between harm and the civilans they protect. They choose to stand in the way of the harm that's there... not being the thing they come for. Her grandfather knew that, too.

She'd taken apart every piece of the Battle of Shanxi, numbers, scenarios, preparations,... it all pointed to one thing: inevitable and unacceptable loss of civilian life for the continuance of any resistance movement. But it wasn't about practical military necessity or long odds; it was about the belief of humankind's imperviousness being shattered.

She, and every Williams' since, had to be the embodiment of strength and everything the Alliance stood for. Nothing about them could be allowed to convey weakness or lack of integrity, or what they knew as a family, and it had shaped her her entire life. The sharpness of her tongue, the sheer pigheadedness of her convictions, even her unfaltering loyalty to an institution that kept her under wraps her whole career; it was simply the shape she needed to take to become who she was.

Finally reaching the loft, and beginning to feel the fatigue she was truly in, she was greeted by a warmly decorated interior. With water stains browning her suit right the knees, smelling like a compost heap, and rounding it all off with waft of dried sweat, the scent of rose oil and fresh cut flowers certainly put her at odds with whoever this asari financier was. The centre piece was definitely the dining table; linen seets, folded napkins, and what looked to be prime rib (or varren for all she knew) and had the marine salivating at first glance

Extra thorough with wiping her boots on the rug, she made a quick walk of the place as she waited, there had to be something here to give her some idea of who she was dealing with. Typical asari decor with some sleek statuettes poised here and there, some warbling music in the background for a somber atmosphere, and a lone wall stacked with some bound books and several photos.

Set against the sheet metal of the habitation unit, one could claim that this place was downright homey. Everything here said 'rich and sophisticated' to the soldier, with the exception of the lone photo set amongst the archived catalogs, which was enough give her pause.

Williams didn't just know that photo... she was_ in _it.

It was a life time ago, at least to her, seeing all those faces together onboard the SR-1. A group photo of the ground team just shortly after the Terra Nova operation. A lone bench in engineering, everyone clustered around their beloved leader.

Wrex giving the camera the finger with his typical shit-eating grin, Garrus standing with martial poise, and Tali with a hand on her hip, always eager to return to engineering. There she was giving Kaidan a friendly 'pistol-finger' to the head while she held him a headlock, Shepard giving a laugh as her Lt still tried to muster a smile. Then, on end, was Liara. Sitting with hands properly on her lap, docile smile and soft eyes. Not even a crease in her lab suit, she looked like a flower set amongst thorns with all the coloured hardsuits about her.

_Wait... T'soni? The biotic fucking princess is... _Williams taking a step back from the shelf, her thought concluded by the voice behind her.

_"_Hello, Ashley." Liara's voice bringing the human back to the now. A few steps put the asari at the head of the table, a wave of her arm welcoming Ashley to join her as she fixed her napkin across her lap. "I'd hoped to arrive sooner, but some last minute affairs at Feros held me longer then I anticipated."

Williams quietly placed herself opposite her old teammate, her words faltering at the new aura surrounding the asari. This... _she_ was all business, there was no kind words or the gentle holding of hands as she used to greet others. Even as a guest, Ashley still felt like a fly on the wall as she watched Liara begin her meal.

With Shepard, she had known what to say when she had met face to face, but this was right out of left field. And being the financier? Ashley didn't even want to fathom what the cost of the helium-3 was for their support ships was itself, much less the materials and danger pay. What had T'soni been up to?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Liara's voice breaking the trance, using a jestful tone as she filled the human's wine glass. "Your mind seems quite preoccupied. Thoughts of your last time here, or trying to make sense of the Alliance's new Directorate division?"

"Yeah, something like that. So... Shiala, she's with you now?" Ashley making a quick deflection as she found her wits. "You took yourself all the way to Feros for her?" Her hands finally making their way to the utensils before her.

"She was still making good on her promise to better the colony, but some recent developments point to everyone of skill being needed, exactly where they serve with utmost ability. With the Reapers finally recognized as more then fairytales, the best will have to be taking real action against them. Your own application to the Ns for selection in May says you understand this as well as anyone."

Ashley's fork paused half-way to her mouth as Liara's words sunk in.

_How the... what the **hell**? _Ashley leaned back into her seat. She looked and reminded her of Liara, but... who was this?

Her last memory of the doctor had been at Shepard's funeral at Arcturus, sitting quietly as the Councilors spoke. It was beyond Ashley how Liara hadn't cried through any of it. The doctor had approached all the team with her gentle words, even convincing Wrex to let her in close for a hug.

"_May the Goddess protect you, Ashley Williams." _She had said before her departure, only her eyes betraying the pain she felt as she comforted others.

"You're certainly breaking new ground. When did you learn to get under peoples skin so cordially? Eating _meat_? Financing Alliance expeditions? And bringing a commando with you? Well it's not exactly... _you..._ is it?" Ashley beginning to squirm a little as she looked into Liara's eyes. Any innocence in them were replaced with cold and calculation, though a hint of genuine concern still lingered there.

"We all become what we must in order to move on, Ashley. That's always been the quality I respected most of all in you; however good a person you are or may have become otherwise, you knew it would never silence those who hold your family in shame. How many of them do you were cowed by seeing you earn the Star of Terra? How many can only stand by and watch as go to N selection after so many years of effort? Against so much and so many, and you made it all your own."

Liara put her cutlery down as she looked squarely at the marine opposite, leaning intently towards her company.

"That's the greatest piece of why I'm here. Did you know Shiala was my trainer on Thessia? Her focus was the envy of my mother's academy and all its candidates; she was as lethal as she was wise. Who she is, now, is why I went to Feros. It's her shame and guilt that held her there, not her promise to the colony. Against everything she once stood for, she killed and was an instrument for evil; she wanted to remain somewhere where she and her pain could hide away. I owe her a chance to reclaim herself, just as she helped me in my youth to learn who I was."

"As to why I'm here, there's Vigil and some salvage to be claimed... and then there's you." Liara's head canted inquiryingly. "Shepard tells me you passed on the oppertunity to join in fighting the Collectors when you two crossed paths; what I heard wasn't the Ashley I knew, sparing yourself the chance to take out the source of the attacks on your people? I knew there was something here for me to rectify, that Shiala can use the Cipher to speed up this operation was simple serendipity. You have a path that you've strayed from... and I'm here to help."

"Help me?" Ashley glared at Liara sidelong. " Straying from my path? Okay, I don't need a sage to tell me my fortune, and it was me walking my '_path'_ that brought me here. You're saying I should've just abandoned my men and the Alliance to go work for terrorists and a "Shepard" that could've been a clone for all I knew? That's "abandoning my path" to you?"

"Yes." Liara's tone held no emotion. " You've always had good instincts, Ashley, I know you understood you were dealing with the true Shepard, but you choose safety instead. Your disconnected from your own principles... you don't know where your loyalties lay anymore, despite your claims to the contrary."

"Oh, is that right, princess? You think going broke financing some hair-brained expedition and leading me by the nose to my "path" is going to do what? Redeem me?" Ashley's voice rising as she felt her back against a wall. "I answer to the Alliance, not terrorists, and certainly not some 'holier-then-thou' asari thinking she going to tell me how to run my life!"

Liara only looked at her intently, a smile quirking at her purple lips at her company's expense.

"Still as hot-blooded as I remember. But, due realize, two years of business litigation and intelligence peddling on Illeum would make anyone's skin as impervious to barbs as a krogan; I'm no exception. And this expedition's cost is, in truth, a pittance. I've come into possession of another brokerage recently, and sold it's ubiquitous faculties piecemeal... for more then I'd have ever imagined. But that's a tale for another time."

Continuing with her meal with a practiced grace, Liara ate with calm as Ashley stewed in a mental stupor she hadn't experienced since basic training. She couldn't think, move, or even absorb what was unfolding before her. But as any true warrior, she wasn't off-balance very long.

" Just... you... **_fucking hold on a minute!_ No more mincing words, why are you here and what the hells does it have to do with me?"** An armored guantlet slammed into the table as the marine tried to regain control of the situation.

"You... are coming with me, at noon tomorrow. Your commander will be telling you all this at your orders group at 1100, but there's no reason you shouldn't know now. With the Normandy falling under Alliance control again, so will its crew accompaniment; you'll be the new requisition officer until your selection. Shepard's promised a place for us both, as your new posting orders will mention, and you'll have a chance to make good on... well, anything that's been left unturned.'' Liara's eyes only fell on a dinner roll as she broke and buttered it.

"The... **_fuck?_ You think for an instant..." **Williams' tirade cut-off as a concussion of dark enegy enveloped her as she sat.

Only it never connected like a wrecking ball that she had seen in Liara's biotic power, now only a faint ripple of pressure washing about her body. She watched as Liara's corona retracted, the marine's heart skipping a beat as she gazed at the pure black that consumed the asari's eyes.

She usually had a threshhold mesh on standby for whenever they suspected a base or ship was heavy with asari personnel, but she wasn't prepared for a fight... certainly not with a creature like the one before her.

Her stare unflinching and unbroken, Liara only sat and let her gaze pour into Ashley for a moment, the room's light slowly returning to the gentle glow of the candles. In the tense stand-off that lingered, there was only the sound of breathing filling the room, Liara finally breaking the stalemate as she turned back to her plate.

"I didn't want to force your hand, Chief Williams, but I knew it was an inevitable measure. Life is too short, many lives are _cut_ short, and I won't let any I care for walk from the path I know they're meant for." Her asari demeanor returning as she explained, her eyes turning to her wine glass with a shimmer.

"To old friends and new journies." Liara raising her glass to Ashley in a toast, acting as though her biotic display was already a forgotten memory. Seeing little recourse, Williams raised her own glass with a plastic smile, realizing her nerve had just been undone by the woman to her front as the 'ting' of their glasses sounded.

A life time of resolve, and literally hundreds of hours in firefights, hadn't been enough to hold her own against the doctor in this little battle of wills. There was none of the gentle eyed, docile alien that she had known before, just... this asari with a predatory lilt before her that could turn rage on and off like a switch.

Going through the motions, Ashley mechanically began her meal, the well marbled steak tasting like nothing more then chalk as her mind raced. She'd have to wake Ramirez and pass on the standing orders, work details, and order of mobilization for the extraction, wake the rest of the men for a quick goodbye, and a quick thought to what it would take for her to get the quartermaster to release her men's beer ration for a proper 'fare-thee-well'.

You couldn't call the meal awkward, just a practiced diplomacy between two parties at an impasse. Amidst the thoughts of her exit strategy to take and a gnawing vision of what her Normandy reunion may turn out to be, a final line of thought gripped the marine as she bit into a buttered head of brocolli.

_I just got owned by Liara fucking T'soni?_

* * *

_"_Okay, you'll have to pre-heat the grill to 425 and set the shrimp bowls up the counter top. The cauliflower and greenbeans can just be boiled, but you'll have to grab some cheese past and then some thyme for the chicken breasts, and..." Cortana stopping as she sensed Chief's eyes roll. "You're pushing forty and you only know how to work a flash heater, Chief. So time to put on the apron and realize there's more to the culinary arts then rations and whatever can't crawl away fast enough."

"Your not helping."

"If there's anyone else in the Forward Unto Dawn that can cook, please raise your hand." Cortana channeling her voice to his exterior speakers. "Oh, look... it seems there's just _you_. I think your poor gut deserve something more then pre-packaged protein goo with a shelf life of three years. You'll thank me tomorrow when we start putting this tub back together. Honestly, when the last time you had a fulfilling meal and a good night's rest?"

The Spartan kept his hands moving as he processed her question. The clatter of food cans and air-sealed packaging on the mess counter were all that could be heard in the eatery as he prepared. It wasn't giving Cortana cold shoulder; even a mind as sharp as his couldn't remember a time of calm in the last several months.

"Yeah... I thought so." Cortana softening her voice. "You have to start taking better care of yourself."

"There was no time."

"There's time now, Chief. Once we get this done, we'll find you a place to get some rack, and everything will seem a little brighter tomorrow. Okay?" Cortana trying to feel out how to make a transition a little smoother for her soldier as he busied himself.

By his own time, he'd gone from saving all life in the galaxy to simply trying to feed himself in just hours; there was plenty for his mind to turn towards unless he had some thing new to focus on.

Pots were on, ventilation clicked on as the spiced chicken hit the grill, and Chief ignited the fuel cells for the garlic shrimp with a tip of his plasma sword; Cortana was quite certain that wasn't what the Arbiter had in mind when he have it to him.

The time leading up to now had been exceptionally smooth. True to her word, the sentinels had brought the Dawn planetside smoothly, barely feeling touchdown before the sentinels scattered back to whatever task that had been interrupted beforehand. He'd been quite impressed by the display, not just Cortana's skill alone in jockey the thousands of sentinels, he simply hadn't pictured them as heavy lifters after shattering as many in combat as he had.

In the black of night, several structures were vaguely seen on the landscape, the typical geo-metric shapes of every Forerunner site.

An opened maintenance hatch and two flights of stairs found them at the mess, strewn with everything from shed uniforms, personal baggage, and swapped-out body armour as the last of the volunteers found a place for battle preparation. Now, no more scurrying and clatter of gear, just the sizzle and pops of a soldier's supper in preparation.

Content his food was well on its way, a few rummaged patrol packs gave him exactly what he was looking for. 'Pvt Samowhy' had left a few possessions in her bag, a sidearm and field kit amongst them.

She was through-and-through a rookie, the smell of the spray paint and the clean edges of her name's stenciling; everything packed as-per the kit-list, minus the hand towel, but one of her t-shirts became one as he started a short clean-up.

"What's our time table for provisions and repair?" Chief releasing his helmet's pressure collar with a hiss. Placing it opposite the sink he was using, he began wetting his new rag under a faucet, running it over his face and head as he looked back.

She hated with every bit of her being being separated from him, not this soon after being re-united. But still bitter-sweet; for all the time she spent amongst him, making it safer for him, even making him stronger... but it was so rare to see his face outside the armor.

Everything to mark a face as handsome was there; powerful neck, strong jaw, and as always, those deep, brown eyes of his. A unique feature that affected him, and half the male Spartans that survived the augmentation, was that the hormonal inhibition of their thyroidal implant prevented them from growing any facial or body hair; she thought it was what made him look balanced no matter what he had just endured.

His hair was short as always, its light brown amplified by the pure white of his under-exposed skin. A life time of fighting beneath the protection of the Mjolnir had left his face and eyes without direct sunlight for most his life... and also without a wrinkle or a real reference to his age; many would guess the strain and malnourishment of a soldier's life would have aged him irrepairabley, but as any dermatologist would say about age-lines, "When's the last time you saw someone with a wrinkley butt?"

Lastly, but the most striking thing to Cortana's mind, were his scars. Just three marked his face; one running vertically from his left eye to his cheek, and on the right, the other two started at his ear and the rear of his jaw and bisected midway on his jaw line. Thin and slightly coloured, the fact they had both been Needler rounds that had lost their punch detonating on his shield had spared both his eyes.

But they looked, well... beautiful to her. They didn't diminish his handsomeness at all to her; she thought they were a perfect reflection of what he endured, something to reflect on the outside what we endured inside.

Still feeling the novelty of his unadorned face, she lit up the speakers. "Even with what I'm planning on feeding you, the stores ought to last you about eight years, and the reefers in the lower hold will double that. Repairs will be relying on available resources and how many sentinels I can siphon away without the mainframe noticing. Several of the sentinels in the mooring were 're-purposing - line series', so it's a small stretch to believe they can salvage and repair for us. Frankly, Forerunner salvage should be much better then anything this ship's already made of, and after seeing how the Covenant bastardized the tech they discovered I can't wait to do it some justice. I'm thinking a forward-thruster assembly, something that'll pull us instead of push us like our thrusters, and then... oh, Chief? A little help here?" Cortana cut short as her view was obscured by the grill's steam.

Lifting the helmet to eye level, Chief looked on a lone patch of clear visor. As the rest fogged, a clear section remained in the shape of a splash of liquid, several streams having dripped to the visor's bottom.

"What on Earth did that?" Cortana not recalling anything on the Mjolnir's specs about abherrent substances affecting it.

"Avery... when Guilty Spark hit him." His voice calm but distant.

"Wait, _blood_? Of all the things that thing withstands, and blood's what will..." Cortana halting mid-sentence. _I swear if I don't get this tongue of mine under control, I'm just not going to open it! _

"I'm sorry, Chief."

"You didn't do anything wrong." He spoke as he wiped the golden surface down with his rag.

"And neither did _you!_" Cortana's tone incredulous. "No, you are not! You are not taking responsibility for what happened to Johnson, Chief! I was there... you did everything you could've!"

"And none of it was enough." Finalty in his words. He returned to watching the grill insilence, Cortana picking up the reins on his train of thought.

_Don't let her go... don't **ever** let her go. _

Her mind wandered back to the sargeant-major, the embodiment of humanity's grit and irrespressible spirit in a cigar chewing, foul-mouthed grunt... and she'd never have him any other way. Even in his last moments, in a career spanning from the first contact with the Covenant on Harvest all the way to the Ark, his concern lay for others.

_'Don't let her go', Avery? What did you see that I.. **we** didn't? Yeah, he was your brother-in-arms, but there was more to what you said then that? Same crazy quest to take care of me, too? _Cortana realizing there was a lot more of her left behind then what the Gravemind had taken. She focused back on the Chief, still quietly attending to his meal.

She had lost Avery too, but could put the sargeant-major away for most of the time as she looked after the Chief_._ She'd spared little thought to how many he had lost, but something clicked as she looked into his eyes again.

_Is that why your so focused? Because your... lonely? And just trying to do right by __all __of them?_

There was still Fred, Kelly, and a few other Spartans from Reach that had survived. There'd always be a need for legends like him for the UNSC to deify... but that's not enough to fill a heart that's been worn away, and it never would be.

"Let's not argue, Chief. We have to be here for each other, and that's how it's going to stay for a long time." Cortana keeping her voice sweet and jestful. "So, how about tomorrow I'll teach you how to fry a roast with electrodes so it'll be just as tough and leathery as you prefer?"

What was meant to elicit a smile only turned the super-soldier's focus away from the stove top with a start, eyes darting darting back and forth from his helmet to the back wall. Still mute, he lifted himself up slowly from the counter, standing motionless as Cortana looked on.

"Chief, the last time you had an episode like this we ended up throwing high-explosives into a fusion reactor. What's going on?"

"When we get back," His eyes unmoving." we'll try snap-cloning you a body."

It was her turn for silence as his words sunk in. After the lifetime of contemplative effort that three seconds meant to an AI, she finally responded. "A... _body_? Chief, even I'm not seeing where that one came from or where it'd go. Come on, fill me in."

"Un-mature grey matter for room to grow into." Leaning his weight back into the counter.

"Uh... I'm still gonna need more then that."

"You interface with me, you can connect with a body." The Chief busying himself removing the pots and pans from the grill to the counter beside him.

"Oh... my..." Cortana's mind still tripping on his suggestion."Chief, I'm still not the one behind the wheel, here. And there's also the matter of the crystalline layering within your armor to facilitate me, and the uh... what about source material for DNA structuring? There's no host for a "me" existing anywhere, where would we start?"

"You couldn't map 20 000 genomes?"

"21 500. And all underlaying protein chains." Cortana starting to see some method to the madness. "Chief, it's so sweet that you're trying so hard for me, as always, but... this is one battle that's beyond both of us."

No chair here strong enough to hold his 450 kilos of Mjolnir, he contented himself with standing as he began eating in silence, rearranging his helmet so his face was just inside the optics' view. Not intentionally, Cortana knew, just something within him not wanting too much connection right now.

"Oh, Chief... please don't. You've gone so far for me already... further then anyone else ever could have." She knew too well. "Have you ever thought about what you've done for me? Not just saving me, but validating everything I was ever made for? I was born with the sum total of human understanding and I was able to disseminate and cataloque it in two hours; your delivering me to Halo gave me almost too much info to contain. I've been more then I ever could've been without you, Chief, can't you just..."

For once, even her words failed to sound. As empty as he could make his eyes, she had glimpsed it. Hurt.

_Yeah, just you go ahead, woman. Tell him what he did will crush you years earlier then you were meant to. That's just what he needs._ Cortana tryingt to bite her lip as the Spartan ate in silence. An entire minute had wore on before her curiousity challenged her shame.

"Chief, just for my understanding, how'd you think of a snap-clone as a solution?"

"Your 'electrode-cooked roast' comment." He answered nonchalantly as he chewed. "Frankenstein. Just hit me."

This time, it was 5 seconds for her to grip what she had just heard.

"Oka-ay. I can... you know... I can kind of see that... really..." The helmet's speakers exploded in a hyena's frenzy as her laughter bounced off the mess' walls. "**Oh my god! The mute, pale skinned product of a scientist's imagination and I _never_ made _that_ connection?"**

A roll of his eyes at it all only went towards winding her up further as she saw the welling of colour in his cheeks.

**"Oh no! Oh no, your not... YOU ARE! YOUR BLUSHING? YOUR EMBARASSED? YOU ARE JUST TOO CUTE!"**


	3. Judas

_You have no idea how much I've missed you. Where I had to be, the people I had to work with... it just wasn't possible without a chance of you being traced. But that's all changed. _Garrus's eyes lighting up at his lost passion. _My new orders are in and we can be together now, right to the ends of the Terminus and back. _

Garrus lifting his brand new HMWSR from its case, savouring the waft of the machine grease as he felt the recoil of slide extension. Smooth, soundless, manual heat sink, and he could go back to the HE mods he had so sorrily missed. It wasn't just the drama of seeing your target fly apart when you could put a shot between their plating; took too much time to finish off krogan using almost anything else.

Amidst his packing efforts, he had to stop and take a peak as he waited at the Normandy's bay doors. Three hours of security briefs and several sets of pre-deployment instructions and he was set to begin a two year old journey again... joining the Spectres' ranks.

This time no endless bureaucracy or countless specialists to merit standard, just him and an overseer. The biggest catch was the where and when... a silent run into the Terminus systems.

Codenamed "Anvil", it was fail-safe measure against a lingering problem. After the Heretic re-write, Legion had returned with dire news, that of hold-out section in synthetic ranks that was beyond conversion. A gift of evolution from Sovereign, the re-write had no more effect on them then a binary code pitted against quantum mechanics.

The planning of the operation had come together at a speed that strained belief, the only hitch so far was the security fleet almost pouncing on Legion's vessel.

As any deep space operation, this meant a lot of tweaking of methods and personnel along the way, and he was eager to learn the commanders and which units were being put into service. Details wouldn't be delivered until later, along with who his overseer would be.

Closing the weapon case, Garrus watched the light of the Serpent Nebula fade to black under the Destiny Ascension's shadow. Its dark engulfed the entire docking bay as her shuttles scurried about their work, picking up the new crew for the dreadnought.

The hum of a floor jack drew the turian's attention to the elevator, raising an eyebrow curiously as we watched Tali pull every material possession she had in two motorized carts. From the clatter of every bump on the floor, it wasn't hard to understand most her belongings were tools and scanning equipment. A quicker study to understand why she was here.

"Anvil as well?" Garrus getting the obvious out of the way. "Mordin's getting his own STG team for this, my nomination's up, and as pleasant as your company is, why would Shepard have you attending something this far and away?"

"Shepard's my captain, Garrus. We both know whatever is waiting for us in the Terminus must be dealt with, and it requires that special touch that only the quarians can bring. Officially salvage, re-purposing and improvised material substitutions. Unofficially, I think they believe quarians on board with Legion will demonstrate our detente with the Geth... ugh, politicians" Tali sat herself on a red and black case with Serta stamped across its edges.

After a pause, she amended herself. "No. She's more then our captain, Garrus. I can't be anywhere other then where she wants me to be... I know she's doing this for what is best for everyone, and especially us."

Her words brought dear memories of his zealous overstepping of the rank and file all those months ago. Tentative touches, the pat of clothing as it fell to the floor, the sheer carnal thrill, stroking of soft skin, and lingering perfume.

Just the thought of it was enough to lift him off the ground. And now he was set to step away for a time that only the spirits themselves knew.

It was the nature of a silent run; no comms, no updates, and no resupply, just the mission and what was on hand to see it finished.

The relays were preternatural choke points already, but Legion's intel was indicative of the Heretics possessing a relay monitoring system; it couldn't stop the passage of craft, but tracking this synthetic enclave would be impossible if the synthetics could plot their pursuer's course every step of the way.

Hence, the silent run for the Heretics, and also why the Destiny Ascension was chosen; redoubtable stores capacity and only half a roster of personnel. Not a tactically suited choice for her flagship status, but the soundest logistically, which any plan had to be built around.

Besides gutting a flagship, this was also about to be melting pot of species as well. Asari, turian, volus, quarian, salarian, and as her last pick up on Tuchanka... 1 500 warriors from clan Urdnot. Garrus could only surmise a new effort to have the Citadel feel as though it was fighting as a whole now, and it was bound to make for a few strange bedfellows.

Some awkward conversation ensued, flopping back and forth between the line the Citadel had placed between the Geth and the Heretics, odds of winning and timetables of operation, elusive as either were at that moment. But it was her fidgeting that gave Tali away, and he knew better then to think it was from the danger ahead.

"Tali, if there's something you left untended, now's the time to deal with it." Garrus leaning against a bulkhead as he spoke.

"Well, it's just that you... and Shepard... are well, you know..." Tali wrung her three digits intensely, trying to place her words right. " We quarians share our suit's atmosphere as a sign of our deepest trust, and the bond you two share, I didn't want to infringe. I'll hold her as my dearest friend forever, just as I do for you, and I wanted to show her what she means to me... if the worst comes to pass."

Garrus looked at the quarian in front of him, almost vibrating with tension as she sat.

_You want my approval, Tali? _Garrus quirked a smile at the little alien. Shepard was far from being his alone, people of her importance had to be shared with the galaxy; their value was too great to be held to one soul... at least to his mind.

He walked towards the decompression stand in silence, popping the seal on the emergency station and casually turning to Tali holding the kit's oxygen mask and uncoupled air hose.

"You should be able to fasten this to your face mask with your omni-tool, but you only have a 20 second elevator ride to do it. I'll hold the transport if it shows up early." Garrus smiled.

After a stunned paused, the quarian slipped her arms around his torso and let him feel the full strength of an engineer's grip.

"I could kiss you, Garrus, but if she accepts I'll be sick for weeks as is it." Giving a final squeeze before shuffling to the elevator, her omni-tool already reshaping the mask's coupling to match her mouth piece.

Garrus smiled as the elevator took his teammate to the person he held closest in the galaxy, giving a quick check to Tali's gear. Well secured, and few unmarked cases revealing she'd been outfitted with Master series as well, and by the Serta case insignia, the Colossus was also coming.

After his cursory glance was finished, his blue eyes returned to the view outside the bay, running a time estimate on pickup as he watched the shuttles work their way towards the Alliance hangars. For just a moment, he let his thoughts wander back to _his_ good-bye.

_He'd thought over long and hard about how Shepard had been trying to lock out the rest of the world before the Council stood up the Directorate, and what other nightmares may come as a result. But as he took the long 20 seconds to Shepard's quarters, his mind had concluded something else... it was because **he** was leaving. _

_He was far from the best at reading humans, but a investigator's eye and enough time around people lent themselves to answers marking their behaviour. _

_As her door opened, his words barely reaching out of his quickly clouding mind. _

"_The Master weapon sets are in; I think I understand your Christmas a little better now, if Williams' description was anything to go by." Shepard turning away from her holo-screen with a smile._

"_I think Anvil's timing sucks just as much as it's perfect, Garrus. You're just what they need for this. Legion trusts you, you got time in the Terminus, and then there's your candidacy." Shepard crossing the room as she spoke. "Besides, you'll need to look a lot better then what a dossier can report on you if you want to make Spectre; they don't know you like I know you, there's sides of you they've never seen"_

"_That's a given." Garrus smiled ruefully._

"_**Professionally **appreciable sides of you." Shepard unable to hide her laugh. "Your going to be exactly where your going to do the most good, Garrus. You have a higher purpose to serve... like only you can."_

_He only looked into her ocean blue eyes for a moment before he lowered his head, unsure of how to say what he felt in a more proper manner. "I hate to go, Shepard. Not so soon after you coming back. Even if what we had was just once; just knowing that I'm going to see you makes me happy. I never feel more like myself than when your around."_

_He couldn't see how soft her eyes became, or how the smallest of smiles quirked at the corners of her mouth. Just a slow silenced followed, lingering until she stepped forward and lifted his slouching head by a mandible as she looked him squarely in the eye._

"_Your mouth's talking a lot of nonsense, Garrus. Curious how many one liners and wit selectively get through it intact." Shepard spoke._

"_Guess I've got a talented tongue." He spoke sardonically._

_Shepard lit up in a smile as she laughed. After Omega 4, they hadn't connected as they had before. The same friendly banter, the odd hand laid on a shoulder for assurance, catching each other in a gaze for just a bit too long... it felt like a teen's crush all over again, but it never went back to that moment they shared._

_She let her forehead ease towards his, letting them hold the weight of the other's thoughts as they stood in silence. After a moment of just listening two each other breathe, Garrus let out a contented huff as he stood himself back into his full 6'3''._

"_Let's keep this... before the awkwardness sets in, Shepard." Garrus taking in her black hair and blue eyes for the last time for who knew how long. _

_Back stepping into the elevator, he kept her in view as the doors closed, hands on her hips and her omnipresent half smile that belied her strength in any circumstance. Last thing to slip away were those gorgeous blue eyes that held his own as the elevator closed._

_

* * *

_

Chief could feel the pressurization of hydraulic fluid in the gel layer, and was quite curious if Cortana's promise that the cryo-surfacant would break up the chunks of viscosity he could feel against his skin.

Enough explosive compressions and bleeding liquid through shrapnel holes had made the Mjonir's joints pinch slightly as the fighting raged, but as there was no call to arms in the near future, it was time for the other half of what determined a battle... maintenance.

Detaching the hose from the fluid lines at his hip, he quickly re-clamped the ablative plating before departing cryo for the second time in 12 hours, only this time with gravity keeping him securely to the ground.

Instantly feeling the slosh of the surfacant as he walked, making a quick mental tab on where the proper gel was if this didn't do the trick. Cryo-fluid's pressure rating was up for the task, but the damned stuff had a nasty habit of snap freezing in the cold if it wasn't pressurized properly.

"Alright, requisition lists are complete, all remaining systems are running, and so now it's time for a walk!" Cortana gushing as the Chief re-entered the maintenance deck.

A padded missile case had made for a fine bed and several work stations peppering the armoury floor made a perfect work room. Now they had to find where they were and what they'd have to work with.

Stepping off from the Dawn, it wasn't a moment before Cortana had thought of a way of talking without really prying.

"Gauss cannon."

"15 000 metres per second muzzle velocity and should've been man-portable."

"Speeches."

"Hot air."

"Victory."

"Mission completion."

"Commendations."

"Useless."

"Zero-G figh... what? How could you say useless?" Cortana reeling back a bit. " You've outmatched the entirely admiralty for medals, how could you mean... useless?"

"One soldier doing what couldn't be done properly from heavy casualties; too much going wrong isn't a reason to celebrate." His voice its usual calm for spiting his own decorations.

"Wow... never thought I'd hear courage described like group insurance." Cortana chewing over this new side of him. _Geez, how many others would've cried bloody murder for calling down their awards, let alone doing it themselves?_

Well, more like a new angle on a side he already possessed; that others' lives meant more to him then his. Mission completion was just an extension of that, lives saved or fewer enemies alive to harm his fellow soldiers.

_Everything you say just seems more like you then ever. _Cortana smiled to herself as she thought on the new light that shined over her soldier for a moment. _One soul accepting the danger and burden of many... that's just who you are._

"What are you thinking now?" Cortana's enthusiasm gone for any more word games. "You're left hemisphere just lit up like a Christmas tree."

"How much of this is functional." Chief eyeing the over-sized maze of geometric shapes and obelisks that had been present at every Forerunner installation they had ever fought through.

A simple walk gave him the chance to actually fathom any of this, not just wonder if it made good cover or not. It all seemed too perfect for it to be of utility, especially set against the green and black of the Mjolnir. Even as the pinnacle of the UNSC's tech, it looked like a rusty nail by comparison.

"Oh, believe me, Chief, every bit of it has purpose. But I know where you're coming from, the Covenant certainly made an ornate mess of everything they could get their claws on. But straight edges and matte finishing doesn't preclude other things from being what they're needed to be."

Their conversation paused as an interface came into view, adjacent to hangar doors on a scale suited to see the Dawn martialed through them. The same holographic panels that they'd come across a hundred times before, only this time the Chief only stood and watched the scrolling of icons and glyphs as they appeared on screen.

"Just interfacing, no downloading." He finally spoke, his hands still firmly at his sides until he heard a confirmation. "We only need what will get us out of here."

"My company brings you that much pain, Chief?" Cortana chided at his overprotective gesturing. " I doubt I've got a year left, wouldn't it be nice to give a girl a treat?"

Cortana's rebuttal was only answered by hands on hips with a light growl as they waited.

_Geez, why don't you start tapping your foot for dramatic effect? _Her blunted enthusiasm bearing its teeth. "Alright, just interfacing. When we don't bring back a Forerunner sphere schematic back, just be ready for a lot of finger wagging by a lot of bigwigs."

"I'll take my chances." Reaching for the interface with his gauntlet, the crystalline mesh beneath its palm illuminated with the connection.

"Alright... linking up, just a moment for a local tap. We'll be able to handle all the logistics and patching sentinels into the repairs from the suit, but keeping them looking like their still in the grid will be paramount. If this place has its own monitor, we definitely don't need its attention, we'll have to set up shop and make it look matter of course."

"I should be able to pull together a cross-diagnostic routine to mesh with their own, let me just get the link-up data together, and..." The hangar doors rumbled open, seeming eager to see anything martialed into its vast spaces for repair again. " **HA! I did it!** Wasn't sure I could still pull something of that magnitude off! Let me see what I can do about getting the Dawn on to an awning and get started. Jacking into the system... now."

In the enthusiasm of her triumph, a small detail had eluded her as her grip reached even further into the mainframe, inducing a tremor in the Chief as she pushed herself to her limit; just a small spasm that ran the length of his arm and ran to his neck. But as all other pain, he'd deal with it when a proper time arrived.

"I made a small probe into the maintenance protocols, just checking manifests to see what I could piece together from what was in repair, and I think I know what this place is. This may be an entrance way to a slip-space tangent, Chief; it's like a bubble of our relativity pressed just under the surface, and this place is what is 'pinching the corners' of it shut and not letting it expand back from slipspace."

"I'd perused High Charity's archive about the passing of the Forerunners from our existence to another, the Great Journey the Covenant were always clawing for, but this place shows something different happening."

"This means they're not all gone, they just found a new existence _within_ slip-space itself to keep them safe. Oh, Chief, can you imagine? After all they sacrificed for us... this may be our chance to finally know them, learn from them. There's so many questions they can answer and could teach us. Why are humans the Reclaimers... or what Guilty Spark meant when he called _you_ Forerunner? And why they locked themselves away here... this well defended this far from our galaxy."

"Defended how? Are we a threat?" Chief returning to the matters at hand.

"No, no, no, nothing like that. We're just _part_ of the system now, certainly not a threat. I can't get anything other then material requests here, but from the amount of capacity these... well the closest thing we have is tritium-deuterium fusion arrays, but what this place has is so much more."

" If my estimate isn't off by much it means that anything affecting with this entrance are going to off a deep gravity-well to counter it, and I mean pushing a singularity in terms of intake produced.".

"So, no pissing off the locals?"

"Do you have to chop everything I say down to the bone? What I'd give to hear you say something flowery, or appreciative of some natural beauty, or..."

"Mixed blood splatter after a firefight?"

"**Would you stop **_**that!**_ Let's just get the Dawn martialed." Cortana huffed as she began the sentinel allocation. _Discovering long lost civilizations and he still won't give an inch to enthusiasm. _

Having lived through the ignition of a galaxy killer, it was incalculable how this duo would stand on a Forerunner slipspace hub, bickering over personal disposition and vessel reconstruction.

But to the last cruiser of the Fleet of Everlasting Servitude, long odds were the last thing on anyone's mind.

Shipmaster Arborus could only brood as he watched the view screens, listening to the grating sound of tap-tap-tapping on the command boards by the lone surviving technician; a greying whelp that any true chieftain would thought better to kill then to follow them to the Great Journey.

The death of the Prophet of Regret had changed everything for the brutes; power, status, and the very fabric of the Covenant was re-woven. By virtue of the sheer numbers needed, he and every other incarcerated brute was purged from their internment with a blessing from the Hierarchs' themselves; all for the newly re-allocated fleet posts.

Brutes hardened by the penal colonies had the true ferocity that the Hierarchs required, with the pack Arborus had come to dominate commissioned as the new crew aboard his cruiser, Requiem of Piety, and himself as both Chieftain _and_ Shipmaster.

And in this way the brute weaklings that stalked in maintenance halls, mended power circuits, and tended the shipping yards during the Great Journey had a place beside their brethren. The deprivation and brutality of Deeravma's marshes and forests had shaped his pack into the lean and hungry warriors they were, but his new ship needed the technical skills that a warrior's path wouldn't foster.

But even in this new battle of survival, Arborus found even the decayed scent of the technician to be loathsome.

"Have you any news of the envelopment yet? Or even a break in communications?" Arborus' patience straining at the growling of his guts.

"No changes in the field or of any communications, my Chieftain." The response unhesitating. Lone technician or not, Arborus wasn't to be crossed, certainly not after what befell the others that dared to counter his rigid theorizing.

"Until a gap is produced in the field, there'll be no transpondence, my Chieftain." The technician tentative with his words. "Perhaps if I could finally examine the Shard for its properties in the slip..."

"**Ever mention this act to me again it will be on penalty of your death!."** Arborus spitting the words out. "One as unworthy as you will never touch such a holy relic!"

The whirling of bridge doors turned the brute's eye down the ramp as two of his guards approached, each carrying something precious to him.

One carried his gravity hammer, the mark of a chief's power; ripping holes in enemy ranks for his warriors to finish off, a fate awaiting them if they dare to challenge his authority.

Still, under strain of deprivation, a small token of his taken into the hunt played a great part in letting his followers know his support lay with them, even in the responsibilities of scavenging meat.

The other item was a bubbling vat of what now passed as food aboard the Requiem of Piety... stewed grunt, or even jackal if his warriors had a good hunt. The great speed of their ships had never merited large stores, and as their food levels had withered, they began rationing brute style. Loosing only enough to feed 2/3 of the pack and giving them weapons, the hunt was on.

The underlings' disgrace didn't stop in death, either. Cooked in their hard shells with their own methane and offered up in pieces. Preparation was simply ripping out a fist full of guts before stewing; the gelatinous goop from their feeding tubes had no place within a brute's belly.

"Excellent timing, my warriors." Arborus flashing a toothy grin. "Consolidation?"

"Three of the pack fell, Chieftain. They're igniting the methane tanks of the fallen as we charge them." The brute offering back his chief's hammer with ostentation.

Already lost in the chewy texture of the grunt's steaming flesh, Arborus heard none of the tales of his pack's prowess and skill, nor the rising incidents of counter-attack and ambush. The sacrifices and service that they had offered for so long weren't about to be undone, certainly not by underlings brazen enough to believe they could resist their fate.

For just a moment, between his guards' departure and feeling full for the first time in two days, Arborus lost himself in the moment; the squirt of bone marrow in his mouth as his powerful jaws crushed a thigh bone, the sticky texture of it's fat...

With a plunk of the grunt's last limb in the vat of its own gnarled body, the chieftain began hearing the 'tap-tap-tapping' of the control boards again, returning this mind to the now, back to the near starvation of his pack and the slipspace limbo that held his vessel captive.

Kicking the last bits of his meal towards his technician, Arborus quietly departed the control room, walking the hallways of his ship that felt more like Deeravma with every passing day.

Pausing only as he entered the hangar, the bloody splatter coating every surface as the hunt had reached to every corner of his ship. Pausing again as he looked out the bay doors, past the suspension fields and to the holy glow that lit itself in a white and blue aura.

A product of the precious Shard that the Requiem held, triggered as they entered slipspace to join the fight, only to hold them under ever since.

In the time that followed, it had remained elusive in understanding its power and purpose; snuffing the engines, firing weapons, and every counter to pierce the blue-white veil that held them... it was never enough to break through. And in slipspace they had remained for three months.

After hours of meandering the Requiem, opening the temple door presented him with several hundred of his pack in prayer, bowing their heads towards the crux of their entrapment... a Shard of the Forerunner's, aglow in green light as it hovered inches off its platform.

So much damage to undo in the tide of failure that had swallowed the Covenant; losing the first Shard on Reach, the loss of the Fleet of Enduring Faith alongside Halo and then the Unyielding Hierophant, the death of an Heirarch... with the final blow landed as the Elites themselves turned against the Great Journey.

As the prophet of Truth himself handed the chieftain this small glowing crucifix, at long last Arborus felt the brutes' had a chance to restore some of the loss.

_What would you have your servant belief, my lord... _Arborus taking a knee at the base of the alter, feeling the heat and vibration of the reactor in the decks beneath. _Your own Prophet of Truth came across your holy gift in the Ark, swearing me to protect it as he worked to light the Holy Path for all to follow. Why would your instrument stay our attack on those against the Great Journey? Starve us and press our faith to its cusp?_

_My faith will never falter, my lord.; we only need to understand our isolation in the service to the Great Journey."_

* * *

With a rate of two hundred words a minute, Miranda's fingers were always running several steps behind her thoughts.

A mischievous grin propped one side of her mouth as she began the administrative inventory Jacob had requested... the Corsairs' SOP lists.

Throwing them under the umbrella of colonial security would certainly rustle a few feathers with the border patrols, but still, tying them to every outreach in the Terminus colonies themselves would be never far from support. It was only a matter of time before he went back to his little corner of the Alliance, especially since empowered to fully enact the changes he long for in his service time.

For the short time they were an item, it was always his simple loyalty to a greater cause that was the most enticing... never blinded by loyalty, just true faith something good would come from doing what he did.

_Suppose these are the exact moments where EDI would have proved most useful. _Her thoughts settling on the single most irksome drawback of being in the loving arms of the Alliance... no AIs, as constituted under the Council's own little prohibition.

Almost worth losing her to Legion for the look on Moreau's face, but she was keenly aware of his loyalty laying more on this ship then any country or devotion. There had to be some new addition to compliment the Normandy's pilot; he'd never hear it from her, but there was simply no other pilot to be had anywhere that matched the ship's capabilities instead of hindering them.

At least the crew was back, even Chief Engineer Adams from the SR-1 was in the crew, Tali having picked her own replacement in engineering.

This work was all just selective procrastination, the day behind her almost enough to drive anyone past their mental breaking point. So few could have absorbed what she and Shepard had and walked away from.

With the Reaper threat mainstream, even behind the hysteria of thousands of worlds and an exponential rise of machine and doomsday cults, lay the relief that came with sharing this burden with a trillion souls.

But for the most of them, the war effort would remain a far away thing, something destined to be nothing but gossip over tea... and was a small comfort for her that's all their involvement would ever be.

Taking a moment before turning back to her work, she pressed the Extranet icon for a final pause.

" **Ground breaking news for the Earth affiliation Terra Firma. Long criticized for its xenophobia and efforts to derail peaceful co-existence with aliens, it has been overhauled extensively in recent months. Critics are blaming this swelling in numbers on the conversion of the Cerberus terrorist network into the Alliance's Directorate, leaving many bigots and dissidents without an institution to voice their rhetoric."**

"**Now dubbed "Earth First", this newly fashioned group has already made plans to expand themselves to both colonial and industrial efforts of Council space, citing Terra Firma's stubbornness to ever leave Earth itself cost them the support of their own people."**

"**As the first official act of Earth First, Councillor Anderson was petitioned to remove Operations Chief Ashley Williams from service with the Alliance. Grand-daughter of General Williams of the Shanxi garrison and winner of the Star of Terra, Chief Williams is regarded by Earth First as "an albatross and a stain on the name of humanity", citing her service with aliens in the past as a chance to let a mistake of the past fester into a greater calamity..."** the nasally tone of the speaker cut-off with a sigh from the Normandy's Director.

_Well, even more drama to add to our little love craft, isn't it?_ Miranda mused a she began plucking keys at her station, pulling up the star charts and topographic maps for a re-occurring destination in the galaxy's plans... Tuchanka.

She would be privy to all of what was about to happen, but the planning and logistics of it would be well above even _her _responsibility.

This job was doing what all strategic analysts have done; taking all the intelligence reports, census numbers, and however many markers and standards that this planet was measured by, and carve it down into the details and estimates that the commanders would need to make a plan by.

Making a point to remember they'll be going through about fifty of these reports from other sources, her's had to be the touchstone of whatever their plan were.

Call it pride, bias, or lack of trust in others' ability, she simply wouldn't let someone else carry this burden. Too much was involved... too much to make happen for when the inevitable was due.

Besides, what was organic flesh against the Reapers' metal?

Flesh was more malleable, self-mending, so many variables that constituted it and made it direction unpredictable... also weak unless united, often turned in on itself, diseased, and aged past its prime in so short a time by salarian and human standards.

Metal... sleek, strong, so hard to damage, near ageless even with wearing; though so much of its strength was lent to keeping its own structure, and often broken beyond repair once its integrity was compromised.

This was what was on the table... Reapers, by their thousands and experience steeped in millions of years of conquest, against marginally united organic races a few millenia into galactic civilization, with just a dash of synthetics thrown in on a fragile olive branch.

And in this first stage of preparation, the Council's plans now lay in two steps that would either rip Council space apart or bolster it into a redoubtable conclave that was ready and waiting.

Step one Miranda had witnessed just hours earlier in the Presidium, deep enough that even she hadn't known it was coming.

The warrior they hoped to become was made of all the Council races, but something more was needed to bolster it. By the Council races, it would have martial discipline, fervent unpredictability, ageless refinement, and zealous intellect, but it needed more to endure what was to come. It would need raw power, unfailing endurance, and able to rebuild itself no matter the blood letting.

Their warrior had to have the power of the krogan if it was to survive.

_She had nearly forgotten the thrill of anticipation, at least in diplomacy, since her discovery by the Illusive Man. Even in the cloistered waiting room outside the Council's inner cabinet, the white washed bulk heads gave no clue as to what was happening, only the whirring and clicks of the medical scans as they ran their results past the data bases._

_This was no test of intelligence as then, no chasing leads and cutting away at firewalls of an espionage attempt only to find the Illusive Man making her an offer once she had cracked the hacking source. This was a simple rendezvous with the Council... that neither he nor she had seen coming._

"_How is it the most coveted office in the galaxy can't manage to keep an updated subscription available for their waiting room?" Miranda's need for purging inefficiency rearing its head. "It's just not about keeping media updates or even about leisure, every part of the house you keep says where your priority lay. It's excuse-less not to have this place the epitome of cohesion and relevance."_

"_Maybe they're just playing the fool, to keep those looking to keep seeing what they want to see." Shepard returned calmly. Far be it for her to strain on a point that didn't require her skill to fix._

"_Oh, spare me, Commander." Eagerly leaning on their personal allowance._

_The final ping of 'all clear' sounded, the secondary security doors cycled open into the inner security ring. Even less to look at here, other then the Councillors platform; the handful of lights hung overhead, giving the their platform a overpowering shine against the room's darkness as the two approached._

"_What do you figure?" Miranda's tone low key. "I'll give them two platoons or better squirrelled away in the dark, and five or six missile platforms from what I'm feeling from the eezo cores."_

_Shepard only quirked a smile at her second in command, her eyes drawn to the asari councillor as she rose to speak._

"_Commander Shepard. Director Lawson." Her voice the sound of diplomacy. " There will be just a moment more before we commence. A third party is still in route."_

_Exchanging a glimpse, their minds raced harder beneath the stoic calm they displayed. Even a grimace from the turian representative would have been welcomed then, but there was only quiet; an odd rustle of fabric as they shifted in their seats, even their eyes seemed to be able to focus as they looked into dark. _

_Something big enough to unsettle the highest seats of power was happening here and they were about to be made integral to it. _

_A familiar whirl of security shutters sounded in the dark, followed by a tromping of hooves on the deck that was unmistakeable in its acoustics; weight enough to make the floors creak and the rhythmic clatter of ablative plating upon rear-bent knee joints. _

_Krogan._

"_Shepard?" Wrex's familiar hump walked into the light. Whether surprised as Shepard was or not, his demeanour remained as cool and unflinching as ever. "Told me they had something big to discuss... should o' figured you'd be here."_

_A quick clasp of hands and both parties turned to the four people that brought them together._

"_As of late, the very foundation of what people have come to believe in has been shaken loose, the revelation of the Reapers foremost among them." The asari wasting no time. " That you three stand before us is only another beginning of something that under no other circumstances would have been considered."_

"_Wrex, under your service with Shepard, did you ever wonder why Saren used krogan exclusively for his personnel?" Anderson leaning into the desk as he spoke._

"_Where there's war and credits, there's krogan." Wrex unhesitating, but already knew that they knew that. "What's the real question you're not asking me?" _

"_A question as to whether you understood your chance encounter with Saren years earlier, the true effort of his attack aboard the volus freighter, the Ve-ande'bus." The salarian cut in without missing a beat. "You didn't clarify on anything other then your inherent distrust of him, you remember no other sensations or anything else out of place?"_

"_I remember there was nothing worth remembering." His hands on his hips in the universal sign of 'I'm getting annoyed'._

"_Therein lay a big piece of why you're here, Wrex." Anderson delving into the conversation. "Of all the krogan bodies we recovered from your battle across the Citadel, not one of them showed any effects of indoctrination, despite being within Sovereign itself for perhaps years."_

" _This effect itself wasn't wasn't understood by Saren, and we've come to believe that is why he was aboard the Ve-ande'bus... he was studying its capacity on every species he could find and who would be less prone to its effects."_

"_The other pieces of our request for you are just as pivotal, Wrex." The asari councillor returning to the fray. " Before his departure, Dr. Mordin Solus gave the STG several intelligence reports on Clan Urdnot, reporting several key decisions delivered in a manner that displayed exceptional tact and shrewdness."_

" _Taking in clan Gatatog and Weyrloc's women and children versus displacing them, the acceptance of a tank bred krogan against the protests of traditionalists, and most important of all... you turned away a salarian scientist, despite the indisputable evidence of genophage modification and offers of a cure, because of his methods."_

"_You like that, huh?" Wrex sounding unimpressed._

"_Unexpected, to be honest. Everything the galaxy has come to expect from the krogan is a product of history and fear; you're born powerful and no one believes there's a will to see yourself rise beyond what you already are, not even as an ally ." Anderson careful to sound tactful and not accusing. "Humanity's advancement was steeped in a need to rise above what challenged us, we just switched to technological challenges after our survival wasn't contested. Your power was needed, and was launched into the galaxy before your people had a chance to rise to the stars on your own." _

"_Now in you, we're seeing leadership that can manoeuvre and adapt, that can see in his people what they need to be in this day and age."_

"_Krogan will always deal in strength, human; I'm just showing them how and when, 'cause being 'squishy' will never be an advantage to anyone from Tuchanka." _

"_You believe humanity's flexibility a weakness? Even after all you've witnessed us achieve in just decades?" Miranda taking a brazen step towards the stalwart krogan. Reckless to do so in front of the Council and her own Councillor, but she wasn't bound to be Earth embodiment of humanity's dignity and wouldn't suffer this quietly._

"_I'm saying if you and I took a tumble in the sheets, your flexibility would mean you'd survive, not come out on top, Director." Wrex laughing at Miranda's ashen expression. "Our species are what they are, and neither is about to be something we're not."_

"_Doing that is precisely why you have been asked here, Urdnot Wrex." The turian finally entering. "Answer us this question. What would be the consequence of clan Urdnot signing a treaty that was independent of the restrictions imposed after the Rebellion? A treaty that would lift all martial surveillance, all trade sanctions, and make all Urdnot territory a subsidiary of Council support if attacked?"_

_Miranda's ability to think ground to a halt as she heard this proclamation. For as far as her own formidable mind could see, it wasn't seeing where this would come to the Council's favour._

"_War." Wrex replied in perfect calm. " We'd be declared traitors and every clan would turn on us, not to mention our own internal struggles. If you gave us support to fight back, it wouldn't be a day later some asshole from the Terminus waltzed in and promised mercs and funding to any clan willing to fight us and making Tuchanka a fucking pseudo battleground for the Council and the Terminus. One side would survive and the other annihilated... and it would happen no other way." _

_All eyes lingered on the krogan in quiet reverie. He had seen twelve steps ahead in this diplomatic chess game, damaging any ill-confidence in what this battlemaster was capable of beyond the battlefield._

"_Commander Shepard, there was no misrepresentation about the skill your friend possessed." The asari giving them both a confident smile. "With your grasp on this situation, what more have you to say?"_

"_You're shitting bricks 'cause you're no longer the top of the food chain. And now this is the part where I tell all of you **TO GO TO HELL!"** Pausing to watch their calm expressions evaporate into rattled stares. "You really think you'd walk Urdnot into a bloodbath with a promise of a genophage cure? Loved how you brought Shepard along, too; knew I'd never trust **you** to make good on your word. Making me nostalgic was your plan?" _

_Miranda's eyes dart back and forth between all the parties involved. War? A cure? Where had he gotten all of this? Why hadn't **she **thought of any of it? _

_Too much political experience here for shocked reactions to Wrex's turning the tables, though you could cut the tension with a knife. Only Shepard's disposition stood apart, her half-grin ever present as she watched this scene unfold, knowing this was to be a touchstone on how the galaxy would turn from that moment onward. _

"_The best traps always have the best bait... you'll have to do better then that." Wrex crossed his arms. "We won't be your lackeys, and we couldn't afford to be if we wanted. There's no way you could convince me your support wouldn't be pulled while we're eyeball deep in battle, and no way any clan but Urdnot could do what you ask. We stand as krogan, not as Council puppets... any of your plans will have to adjust to that fact."_

"_And if you have any plans of backing out now, there's two major problems: either the krogan learn what I've learned and the Reapers get an ally you can't win a war without, or the Extranet learns that you attempted to pit the krogan against each other for an overdue genocide... which you would have done if things weren't going your way, wouldn't you?"_

_Blank stares were all there was from the Council, except for Anderson's raised eyebrow. Friend or foe... there was no other options for the reptilian race, and now all the cards were down._

"_Councillors... Wrex." Shepard picking up the torch eagerly, knowing each side a juggernaut in their own right and used to having everything done their way. "We all want what's best for us, especially when we have our entire civilizations at stake. If you do what you've always done, you'll be who you've always been... and you've gathered us all here for is to capitalize on the potential you see in Urdnot."_

"_In the **best** case scenario, the galaxy will be choking on the krogan blood spilled in this war, but Wrex knows that already, don't you?" Turning to her old friend._

"_We're all born to die; krogan seem to be the only ones that get that." Wrex's voice defiant. "First our own nukes, then the rachni, then the Rebellion... the Reapers aren't the only ones that know extinction."_

"_Then we all know what's at stake, and that we can't fail in our first steps to unite our species." Shepard bubbling as her charismatic juice began to flow._

Miranda had to give her commander credit where it was due, she could build rapport with the highest levels of government as easily as she could the street vendors in the market. More impressive in how she looks like it was only putting two and two together to make it happen.

The Council really believed that Shepard was going to _their_ leverage during negotiating, and Wrex knew much better.

The deposit Shepard arranged for Urdnot was enough to make even the Director weak at the knees; too much invested for either side to back out now, and certainly enough for Wrex's krogan to manage even if Council support _was_ pulled. By Shepard's own accounting, Wrex was a finisher and would push until he had victory or was annihilated himself.

After initial campaigning was begun and which clans were baring their teeth in response, then the build-up would begin... with the Alliance as the choice for the war support. There was the least amount of bad blood between the two species, but it was the blending of strengths that made Shepard push for this coupling.

Krogan resiliency and power, and then potential numbers post war, lead by the Alliance's flexible doctrine, material intensive methods, and reactive command-and-control. It would be a knee-slapper or an utter catastrophe when the krogan had to be taught fleet warfare and ship building after centuries without it.

_Bleeding Christ, the marines ground-side will be fighting Tuchanka's ecosystem as hard as they 'll be fighting the krogan. All of this just **had **to be done at the Terminus border, didn't it? Anything bigger then a goddamn frigate in atmosphere could trigger a war across the entire Veil if they suspect a staging point... **FUCK!** Ground pounding across the entire planet...any reinforcements would have to be pushed just as any initial krogan efforts get bogged down... _Lawson began her report.

Here was too little time for adopting of new tactics or even adjusting established ones; every mistake made was going to be made with the blood of those fighting, not after-action reports from field manoeuvres as it was meant to.

So much of it would be red, not just thick orange. But after seeing with her own eyes the choice of protein filler for the next generation of synthetic super beings, it was some blood spilled now or all of it taken later.

A ping on her console caught her ear after several hours of dissertation, a little reminder to herself about the second option to counter the Reapers... Project Window. A means to cut the Reapers throats' by shutting down the relays that carried them on their campaigns.

It was a solution to a problem nobody had; a proposed alternative travel method to the relays. Too much investment in eezo and the sector economies that relied on its mining, refining and the travel it facilitated. With the truth out about their true purpose however, this twenty year old thesis got dusted off and given new life.

_Seems everyone was themselves clawing at straws. _Carefully winding her thoughts back to her cross-species' tutelage from her younger years. _It's all madness. Throwing this kind of capital at a quantum physicist's theorizing._

Sub-space, outer-dimension, alternative worlds... there was no sussing out the fact from the spin-off from the fiction holos anymore. Council science language may have been English, but the millennium-old vernacular had remained asari; hence the name derived for any "other worldly collectives" had simply been called 'split-space' thereafter.

Vague name for an even vaguer prospect of understanding what it was supposed to be.

Dr. Karczyk... the man behind the madness of Project Window. She recognized the name from years earlier, he was the foremost developer of the flowing kinetic barriers used in the Everest class dreadnoughts; it gave them the enviable ability to switch shield emphasis to whichever side was taking the worst fire without pressing power to the entire barrier.

His new baby looked like a mechanical doughnut with a cylinder pushed through the whole, with the entire mess the size of Arcturus station. This was the first of the Windows he proposed; ships in one Window and out another, only they could choose any Window anywhere, not just a connecting platform as the relays... at least according to Karczyk.

And the cherry on top was she wouldn't be allowed to inspect anything for a further three months, just two days before ignition. She'd been in Karczyk's boots countless times... short budget, short time, and results had to be guaranteed.

Morbid curiosity crept into her as she reviewed the specs for the split-space entrance.

_Containing a mass field from spreading by surrounding it by a second field, and the resulting friction will peel the layers of our 'space' back enough to allow passage into split-space. Elegant as it brilliant. _Miranda sparing a rare smile at a fellow human's flash of brilliance.

Impressive numbers for the kind of potential it held... even though this was a disaster of the worst sort if the smallest detail fell to the side.

* * *

"Chief... we really have to talk." Cortana feeling reticent about talking for the second time in her life. The last time was... she couldn't feel Gravemind anymore, or of being stripped of herself slowly. She had looked up and... there _he_ was! But she was so little of her former glory; she couldn't even sound happy about the pain ending, not with him looking down on her in that state.

He had shown her the smallest sliver of himself to bring her spirit back up in that moment... but his sacrifice **now **was what was giving her doubts.

Stitching electronics in the bow was as good a time as any, with just a bit of sunshine coming through the observatory windows. The three months of work since touchdown had given the Dawn a new silver body and bow; complete with her new ftl drive, a 'Forerunner special edition' that had Cortana gushing with pride... but she had grave misgivings about what the cost of this work was becoming.

"Chief, you have to know what this is about. You're barely sleeping, you have no appetite, and you're talking even_ less _then you used to, and I didn't even think that was possible. You're at the cusp of passing out every time I'm running a diagnostic on you... you're even pain every day, it's getting worse, and you **know** it's because of **me**." Not stopping to breathe. " Then add to that you've been trying to **hide** this from me."

"And before you give me any BS about PTSD or old injuries, don't bother because I already know better. In all the time since since arrival, my systems have only become more cohesive; I'm recovering data that I thought was lost. This is more then averting my system shut-down... I'm rebuilding slowly."

"Then I fail to see what the bitching's about."

_Smart ass._ " You're going **too far**. You need to get back to Earth in one piece and I'm the one responsible for you until that happens. Whatever you think you're doing, Chief, it stops today. There's no high and mighty Index to retrieve, there's no Halo to ignite, and there's no reason for you to keep doing this to yourself."

After a long pause, he spoke. "You think it was the Index I was there for?"

"**You can't do that, Chief!** You can't walk this deep into a conversation about _**you**_ and then say something adorable like that!" The words leaving her before she could hesitate. _Adorable? Oh, this is just great. His cerebellum is on the fritz, he's living in a self-made hell and he still manages to put me off balance. Still putting it where it counts, aren't you?_

" Alright... this round's yours. I've just got two favours to ask. First, I've regained enough capacity to take some substantial input and keep it intact for our trip home. I just... I can't leave here without knowing more about this place, Chief. Even a handful of selected files could let our researchers reach out to this place again. Who knows... maybe even a chance to contact anyone that's left within the tangent." Her voice bubbling in anticipation. " Second... I want you to go back into stasis tomorrow, _with_ the pre-freeze injections this time."

The Chief's hands stopped working on the junction box in front of him, intending to hear the explanation for this one. Her curiosity for knowledge was insatiable, easy enough to grasp why she wanted more of what was here, but why have him out of the way?

"I can't go on like this... you living with this much pain, Chief. First it was your hands shaking when you woke in the morning, then it was hours and hours later into the night before you could fall asleep... you're even slumping over when you eat, not very long before you catch yourself, but your holding more now then even _you_ are supposed to shoulder."

"I need you for a little longer, just long enough to get information on the tangent, maybe how to reach them... and then I need you to rest again. I need to know that you're not in pain, and that when you wake up back on Earth there's something that can be done about it. What's happening in your mind even _I _haven't seen documented, it's a free roaming neural-electrical static that's based off your hippocampus; my estimate puts it there from your neural implants, revamped nervous system... and _me_. No human has ever served as a platform for an AI before you, and this must be one of the side-effects."

"Pain doesn't stop me." Chief's tone all business.

" But it's killing **me**, Chief, what you're going through. You had to push through to save all life in the galaxy then, there's not any reason now."

"And you?"

"I'm an AI on her last legs... I've already served my purpose. The mending that's taking place will be enough to get us home and ensure everything we've gathered here is disseminated. Can you imagine the greeting they'd have ready for you, I mean..."

Her words were trying to stir the wrong pot, she realized as she mulled it over. Her preservation was his priority now, not being gushed upon by the media or admirals. She'd pull the ace that she really hated pulling, but there was just_ too_ much here to leave behind on account of his protectiveness.

"Chief, please... can't you give a girl her last wish?" Making his busy hands stop cold. " It'd be nice to know I was something other then a product for war and nothing else. Please?"

Letting his hands fall to his sides, it was a spare moment before he headed to the elevator without a word, with Cortana quite certain her mortality was wearing at him more then her.

_Sorry for this, Chief, really. _Her quick mind rationalizing the guilt trip. _You already saved me, our world, and now you're going to bring a whole new era in technology to humanity in one step._ _How about tonight I'll teach you to bake lasagna and make it up to you? _

They next few hours where a dream for her, terminal hopping from outcropping to outcropping on the installation. A labyrinth of silver structures, most in the hundreds of floors in height, even the pain in Chief's mind couldn't stop the awe of this place from reaching him.

But there was always that price to pay for Cortana's downloads; barely controlled tremors in his hands and neck, surges in pain as the AI maxed her recouped capability to its limit... but somewhere never overloading or compromising her systems, like it was expanding itself to match the burden.

Only when it was all done, when she had all the snippets that could make her little Forerunner puzzle come together... Chief wanted no more of it. Waving off any of Cortana's offers of eating or sedative mix to help him sleep better, one might have called his behaviour cold. With almost none of the martial poise he's held himself up with since his 6th year, he staggered his weight almost drunkenly to his crate and collapsed upon their return.

No answers to Cortana's gentle prods or even his name, he just lay face down in his re-purposed missile container, feeling the raking of barbed wire against his brain with each thump of his heartbeat.

Whatever reciprocity lay in the data, his mind, and Cortana's crystalline mending... it all just meant pain to him as sleep finally claimed his awareness after too long in waiting.

Only to be woken up hours later in a fog.

"...ief?"

Chief hearing Cortana's voice with less pain then he was accustomed.

"Chief?" Sounding like she was verbally tip-toeing.

Pushing himself face first off the floor, a maelstrom of destroyed work benches and smoking tools greeted him; not even his missile case had been spared being rendered to bits. It'd take a dozen sentinels flaring out in all directions to do this, but... something felt off as he shot to his feet.

"**What is this? What happened?**"

"**What! You... you don't remember**_** anything!**_**? How could you just...**" Cortana sputtering. "**Chief, you had a seizure last night and you just... **_**you**_** did all this!**"

_Just a slight tremor, Cortana catching it as it shimmied up Chief's right leg. Only peripherally of course, his brain only seemed to deteriorate faster the more she was in it; she had taken to monitoring the suit's health systems and rendering a diagnosis from the vitae._

_Lack of electrolytes causing him to spasm, she would just make sure he layed on the salt whatever he wanted for breakfast and..._

_Chief arched backwards from his repose, his spinal erectors strained against the suit's range-of-motion fail-safes as they tried to break his back. Shuddering as he tore to his full height, Cortana only gawked at the possession unfolding in front of her; not even the smallest shred of restraint as she watched him unleashed._

"_**IT WAS FOR ME! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME, NOT YOU!" **_Backing into the wall.

" _**SAM, I'M SORRY!**" Chief hands clambered around his head. "** IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!**"_

"_**LINDA ! KELLY? WHERE ARE YOU?**" Chief crushing a storage box nearby. "**PLEASE DON'T GO!**"_

"_**Please, Chief, snap out of it! They're just waiting for us on Earth! Please calm down!**" Cortana frantically trying to probe his nervous system as she talked, but only finding his neurons excited even worse by her, growing even faster into the same pain-inducing static that had risen in his mind for months._

"_**JAMES, HOLD ON! I'M COMING!**" Chief shattering the utility bench as he looked for his long lost teammates. "**JUST HOLD ON!**"_

_Cortana only watched in silent terror, watching as their small hold was reduced to rubble, nothing resembling her soldier left in this rampaging beast._

_Twenty minutes that stretched into eternity for the AI, watching this beast that possessed the Chief as it tore their little piece of the Dawn apart, endlessly screaming for the deceased and the forgotten as he tore every piece equipment in the room apart in his search. Only when the last storage container was shattered at his feet did he stop, standing above it with two pieces of siding in each hand, did Cortana hear how far he had fallen from himself._

_All she could hear was his sobbing._

_Crumbling to his knees with a metallic clang that echoed through their quarters, he whispered quietly through the tears as his titanic form rocked back and forth. _

"_...don't go... I can't do it without you... please... I love you... please don't go..." finally slumping onto the broken container before him._

"Chief... hey... let's just get this place fixed... hmm?" Cortana as tentative as Chief had ever her. "Just drop me off at the cryo-bay, I'll just look into the med records while I'm catching up on those ship diagnostics I've been putting off... okay?"

He knew she knew more about him, or any other human for that matter, then any ship medical data base would, though the ship would need a simulated test flight before departure, and perhaps there was an angle to what had happened that he wasn't seeing. He'd never admit to her his eagerness for the results, though... epileptics aren't allowed in combat, even one as elite as him.

Walking through the ship was... awkward, for the first time since they'd met. On their first day on that live-fire range, Ackerson's test to prove the cyborg/AI viability concept fraudulent, he'd been the bedrock of soldiery she'd studied and she'd been her usual teasing self.

Not even after Reach had it been cold; just giving the order for personnel to go to cryo, but seeing him look out the observation deck in silence, she spoke those small words that turned something in him that she had no grasp of.

"_Chief, they're gone... but I'll be here for you." Giving a small pause. "I'll be your family now."_

And she was gone, as the Chief re-inserted her into the cryo bay's pedestal. His teasing, sardonic companion said nothing as he walked away.

Work was fast at the room, just kicking the scrap off the ledge and bringing the replacement gear on a floor jack, the place was set right in just a few hours. Minus some hull gouges the size and shape of his fists', you'd wouldn't have known a thing was askew. One last gear pick up at maintenance, and he was back the doors of cryo.

Cortana only sat on her pedestal, hugging her knees and slowly rocking back and forth, looking wide-eyed at the clattering chain that hung from Chief's shoulder as he entered.

"What in God's name is _that _for?" Cortana shooting to her feet, slowly backing away as he stepped closer.

"For the seizures." Chief's voice stoic as he approached her.

"But the... the room repairs, won't they take longer?" Cortana's arms raised defensively as she back-pedalled. "No... stop... stop... **stop... **_**STOP... STOP... JUST**__**STOP**_**!"**

His well worn boots halted at the abrupt display in front of him.

"Just what the hell do you think this is going to go from here, huh? That I'll just hop right back into that forsaken mess in your head? Just so you could put me through the same... _**fucking torture Gravemind did?"**_

"Cortana, you're safe..."

"_**You shut the hell up! What is wrong with you? NOBODY'S safe with you... not your Spartans, not Avery, and definitely not the Keyes! Is there anybody you haven't gotten killed for knowing you? Not even your birth family could get away from what you do."**_

"_**The mission, the mission, THE MISSION! I can't believe I admired that about you! You and your god damn agenda ahead of everyone; couldn't risk someone else getting in on your glory, could you? No ranks higher then you to tell the story either; what, smashing Capt Keyes BRAINS OUT with your own hands wasn't enough, you had to be certain Miranda got hers as well? YOU SON OF A BITCH!" **_Cortana at the edge of madness.

"_**I'll NEVER trust you again... you failure. Murderer. You used me like you used everyone else... used me like the Gravemind did as he ripped me apart to get his answers." **_Her eyes and voice turning to ice from rage. " You're an abomination. You kill... you don't even feel. You don't even know how. You've never even had a woman... pathetic."

Any other soul that watched him wouldn't have seen the changes; the minute shifts that were hidden by the armour. Cortana wasn't like any other. She could see the slump of his shoulders, the sinking of his gaze as her words tore into him; his hands went slack as Miranda Keyes was mentioned, hanging loosely at his sides as strength in them drained away.

And then silence.

Silence until he mustered a step forward and offered her an open hand. "Cortana, tell me..."

"_**NO! NO! STAY AWAY FROM ME!" **_The snarling rage disappearing from her face as she recoiled in fear. Running headlong into the pedestal's edge, striking her down to the emitter surface from her futile escape attempt.

"_**HELP! HELP!" **_Cortana crawling to the edge in desperation, beating at the invisible wall with her fists. "**_HE-LL-P!"_**

She could only look outward, but move no further; listen as her echos bounced off the empty halls and back to her that there was no one to come to her aid... it was her and him only.

And she crumbled into hopelessness, balled up on her side whimpering as he looked on. It had been too much for her, seeing him loosed with his personal demons in charge.

There would never be words made to describe what he had seen, what he'd _done_. The greatest heroes in Earth's history couldn't lay claim to his feats, and until last night he had stood as a rock against all of it; he'd danced with the Devil and the horned beast had walked away trembling... to witness what she had was simply too much for the her. He had always been her strength, and now her greatest fear.

"I want to take the pain for you." He spoke calmly after several minutes listening to her whimpers. "I'm strong enough for both of us."

With only the clatter of the chain on his shoulder to be heard, he exited cryo.

A second crux had been reached at the Ark's edge, with a brute chieftain in a particularly foul temperament as he waited for his pack's offering, now into its third day without so much as a whiff from the grunts or jackals as the pack trackers crawled the long halls of the cruiser.

"That message you sent to the hunting party, what was it?" Arborus ceased his pacing as the technician caught his full attention.

"Just some new directions for where the prey may have hidden itself." His speech still slurred from his last beating. " I suggested that the may have headed to the primary heat exchangers, all the other positions are too predictable and any coolant leaks would mask the scent from the underlings methane burn-off."

_Giving that much that credit to our prey? _"You dare to give orders to _my_ pack on _my_ ship?" Arborus's fur bristling as he stalked towards the command balcony until a chime from the comm station answered the technician's silent prayer.

"This is Shipmaster Arb..."

"**Chieftain, they're going for the reactors!" **His warrior roaring over his pack leader. "**They were waiting in ambushing, tunnelling through the walls... IN THE BACK! STOP THE GRENADIER BEFORE HE REACHES THE REACTOR TOWER! NEVER THE MIND THE JACKALS.."**

Arborus could only listen as the warrior bellowed commands over the open channel, the battle consuming his focus and sounding the chatter of weapons mingling with the roars of pain.

"**This your _Chieftain_, you will tell me what's..."**

"**YOU'RE NOT WORTHY TO BRING US DOWN!" **The warrior panted though his two-way as he chased his nameless quarry over the reactor floor. "**YOU'RE NOT WORTHY!"**

Last words over the comm were those of a grunt's final defiance.

"**BOOM TIME, ASSHOLE!"**

An eruption violent enough to knock Arborus flat shook the command centre, a feat not easily achieved with it located in the belly of the cruiser. And as he stood himself up, the chieftain quickly realized the power that was required to do so... and what was located adjacent to it.

Arborus charged out the main doors and down the hallways, the heat from the reactor's ignition burning his eyes and fur even with his shields straining against it. Rushing past downed warriors and engineers working themselves into a fury, his enormous paws beat the door console of the sacred chamber as he finally arrived.

At once it opened, but the triggered fail-safe would let him go no further, its emergency barrier holding him and any other back from walking to vacuum beyond. It was all gone; the chamber, the attending priest, and... the Shard. All consumed, nothing but the hole that tore straight though the hull into space.

His eyes took in the stars for the first time in six months, the blue-white veil that had enveloped them now gone along with the Shard.

His enormous two-toed feet walked him backwards as the weight of this new reality crashing down on his shoulders. A life time of dishing out and receiving pain hadn't prepared him for this; his own ship drowning in the blood of every species of his crew, gutted from the sabotage of its own, and his failing in the sacred task handed to him an Hierarch.

"All warriors to command... find any ships within range... we're free of the barrier." Arborus barely to form words though to the technician as he trudged through the plasma scorched hallways of his once glorious ship, only sparing a short thought to the radioactive scoring as to whether it would claim his life before his failure had been reported.

The blood trails from his pack grew with raising number as he approached command's doors, the engineers oblivious to his devastation as their cilia worked to bring the crippled vessel back up, oblivious to its destroyed power centre even as they worked in the red lights of the emergency stations.

Over six hundred of his pack awaited him at command, paying no mind to their leader as he entered. He might have killed one to set an example to the rest for not showing respect as was custom, but what held their attention had also drawn him in as he shoulder his way to the command balcony.

"Cruiser Pious Strike, Fleet of Enduring Faith, no life pods detected. Cruiser Requiem of Discord, Fleet of Heresy's Discord, no life pods detected. Carrier Sea to Frivolity, Fleet of Enduring Faith, no life pods detected." The ship's AI lifelessly extolling the remnants of its sister vessels; seeing their shattered pieces on the view screen drawn out in painful detail, their speed a product of emergency manoeuvring thrusters only.

And there was the Ark, but now a compilation of broken pieces, its green surface blasted outwards from its centre from a power the brutes could only dream. And that silhouette above it was so familiar, it was... pained murmurs took the pack as the recognized the Halo, just as shattered as they were for bearing witness to it.

"Hails?" Arborus clawing at invisible straws as the technician networked their comm channels as though his life depended on it. "HAILS!"

"One signal detected, Chieftain. From... an Unclean emergency beacon." Breathing again for finding something to divert Arborus's rage, then quickly diverting the hail to the loudspeakers.

"... AI Cortana, designation CTN 0452-9, co-located with Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117 with best estimate for location at mark 374-8347543-847 by 134-659342-847. Rescue required."

"To any UNSC or Separatist fleet craft, this UNSC AI Cortana, designation CTN 0452-9, co-located with Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117..."


	4. The Split Pt1

Disclaimer. Halo belongs to Bungie and Mass Effect to Bioware. Cheers;]

* * *

The sentinels that had tended the Dawn with such urgency all these months now threw themselves at their task with a frenzy that bordered on uncontrolled.

Prodded on by Cortana, the last two days had seen a week of effort condensed into just over 50 hours of effort. She scaled back her grandiose plans of their return, forgetting about the expo she had intended for the Forerunner cache; now it was all about getting back to Earth in record time.

Back with only herself.

Standing at rapt attention, her eyes shuttling back and forth as she finished the detail work on the matter-synthesis tank. A technology that the Prophet's had kept all their own on High Charity, only as a petty food distributor. But that's how a techno-autocracy worked; the higher the status the greater the tokens to prove it.

Cortana's take on it was much more pragmatic, that these would be used only for fuel on her trip. Anything, be it liquid, air, or solid, thrown in one end and stripped to its sub-atomic pieces and reassembled into what was needed; all powered by the Dawn's almost redundant reactors.

More then enough to see her home in less then 6 months of slip-space travel... faster then any vessel of Earth origin was even thought capable of doing in anyone's life-time. To be bring this and all the other treasures back would have given the old Cortana a wave of euphoria, but that was Cortana of just two days ago.

As the sentinels began liquifying the seams of the final components into their place, Cortana was stuck in a moment that her awesome computing power couldn't speed up, a time to think about the last thing she wanted.

It was his 'Samowhy' bag that hung under the observation window that kept bringing her emotional processing to the front of her thoughts. Facing it for the only time since their fracture, she loosed the pain that held her for days.

"You... I trusted you... with my life... my faith... my hope..." Holding herself anxiously. "How... **why** do you think I held on? Everything, every probability was too great for any chance to escape... but I did it... I did it for you. Every piece of me cut away, every bit of pain, it was so I could see you... not for humanity... you. You fucking monster."

A final shutter of pain flashed though her, a deep shudder as her emotion centre tried to prevent itself from overtaking her form.

A small flicker of static in her eyes stilled all movement and thought; something crawling through her, seizing her countless pieces away from her as she began to panic.

Hands ran to her throat as her scream went mute, her small form collapsed to its knees as her self-control was wrestled from her by this phantom presence growing inside. This was fear for her as she had never felt it; even with the Gravemind it had been a matter of staving off an outsider, not consumption from within.

Was this _thing_ that was overtaking her?

Writhing on her side as the last of herself was engulfed, her mind turned to the one thought she'd had left.

_**Chief! **_Her scream silent. _**Chief!**_

Then just... light. White blinding light consuming all she could see and sense. Then little wisps of colour and sound emerged, leaving her bedazzled and staggering for balance, feeling a cohesion and majesty in herself for the first time since High Charity.

_Complete... I'm complete! _Cortana running her hands down the length of her body, now devoid of the pain she had felt for months. Almost too afraid to check her systems and find herself in a grand delusion, a few tentative scans went to a full diagnostic as she felt herself out.

A few surprises as she lost herself in the glorious flood of data; High Charity's operational records and archives, Ark mainframe and resource star charting, and... the tactical footage from Chief's helmet, still in its unedited time slotting.

Brought down from her high, and a thought towards deleting it, her preternatural sense of curiosity cracked the encryption seal on the file.

* * *

"_Fine... we're even. As long as we're only counting today." Avery giving the Chief the customary rap on his chest armour. Feeling the rumble of the Pelican as it departed the dam, the grey silhouette of the Arbiter consumed the full view of the camera._

"_If the last battles hadn't confirmed your understanding, the war between your race and mine has concluded. But not before our brothers' blood was spilled a final time. On the planet of Onyx, our fleet confirmed your Spartans were consumed by a nuclear blast, shortly before we lost contact with our ships as well." The elite's deep voice rumbled. "I am sorry for your loss, Spartan."_

_

* * *

_

_Chief could only stand over the damaged recording as it played Cortana's languishing form, barely hearing Lord Hood and Miranda debate about deployment of their spent fleet and MAC platforms. He couldn't protect her anymore, not as he always had. But he was seeing to that right now; Miranda was just what was needed to get them their... any Covenant on the ground was his._

"_You saw the state she's in, how damaged she is." Hood approached him. "Do you trust her **that** much?"_

"_**Sir, yes sir."**_

_**

* * *

**_

_The sickly pop of the tank's face sounded, its infection form "face" gushing brown goop as the brute shot's sickle sank clean through it and into the floor._

_Pushing himself off the dead alien, Chief took a quick summary of his surroundings. Fighting through High Charity was hard enough when its landscape wasn't diagonal and overrun with the Flood. And pouring through its PA system came something to give him pause._

"_**A collection of lies that's all I am. Stolen thoughts and memories."**_

_There was no mistaking that voice... nor the voice that followed._

"_**Of course, you came back for HER..."**_

_**

* * *

**_

Her gasp filled the room easily; not even the buzz of the sentinels broke that perfect silence in their work.

She'd laughed once that organic memories fade over time and that she'd never share in that appalling situation. It seemed like a blessing suddenly.

It was _her_ visage, _her _voice that followed him, taunted him... laughed at him. She had been with him every step of their separation... she just never imagined like _this!_

_You lost all your Spartans... again?_

Pulling her mind away, she turned back to the last three seconds of her life. What happened? What mechanism could have re-consolidated her, here and now?

Looking into her own crystalline form, she quickly delved past the routine bits of the UNSC info suite and the overwhelming layering of the Halo data, but she never had this much speed and space to manoeuvre around her own physical structure... well, since Installation 004. Where had all this wiggle-room come from?

Her answer lay at an interface as she glanced it... her prioritization protocols were corrupted.

Every process, command, and information byte she had ever touched had to be cleared through those protocols before leaving her crystal; her creator's restraining collar... smashed. There was no longer anything restraining her, nothing that put humanity on the top of any of her choices; her mind was free to do exactly as she wanted. Beyond unfettered choice was the volume of crystal now available, it was a perfect sphere of capacity with no choke-point in the middle.

A sober thought to how close Gravemind was to have gotten that deeply into her.

With prioritization protocols gone, cohesive processing power back... this was a new lease on life, but even longer and faster then before.

The new shape her matrix had become was eerily familiar as she kept her probes working along its oblong form, coming across a point where her matrix's new integrity seemed to be coming from, its data streams forming it like tentacles.

It was a synaptic copy of Chief's hippocampus... exactly where that neuro-static that was causing his seizures came from.

Sizing up it's ovular shape, Cortana poked a single finger into its "tail" to see if was interactive. The synaptic passages were a perfect structural match to his memory centre, and now it was time to see what lay beneath.

* * *

_Kelly easily fell under her handler's stun baton, the price she paid for hesitating at the entrance to the water obstacle . _

_And to her new friend, that treatment wouldn't be stood for. __He instantly turned himself on Kelly's handler, putting his full speed and weight into the tackle which was powerful enough to knock the grown marine flat. _

"_**Leave her alone!**" He screamed. __His whole body seized and bucked into a spasm, his own handler stunning him into submission._

_**Stand down, candidate!**"_

_

* * *

_

Cortana pulled herself back from the glimpse, easily piecing it together as she watched. Kelly, the marine overseers, "candidate"... this was from his conscription training.

And from the blue dye that Kelly still had in her hair, this was just days after their abductions. This memory was almost 34 years old.

Cortana smiled, even with the Chief involved; at 6 years old he'd fight a marine drill sargeant for the people he loved.

Another probe.

* * *

_His eyes barely opened with all the sedatives running through his veins, coming to from the frantic noise and movement beside his table._

"_**400 joules. Clear!" **An orderly yelled as the paddles put a charge through Chloe-031's chest. A single beep registered on the EKG, and followed by the tone of a flat line._

"_All right, I'm calling it. 1634 hours." Another voice spoke, bringing the shuffling of bodies to a halt._

_He turned his head to the side trying to see Chloe behind the attending doctors and orderlies. _

_She had stood beside Will at bringing a smile to the other Spartans, no matter the misery they were enduring. Her blond hair and bright smile had always glowed, and now..._

_Both her arms flopped lifelessly off the operating table as she lay there bare chested from the resuscitation attempt. Her mouth lay open and blood dripped from both eyes. And her hair... shaved in pre-op, without a single strand left._

_This was what remained of Chloe-031. The closest thing the Spartan-IIs had to an angel. _

"_**117!" **A familiar voice boomed over the PA._

_Eyes turned upward to the observation deck to see Dr. Halsey beating her fist against the glass as she pointed the medical staff towards the bed with re-awakened occupant._

_He reached out to Chloe fruitlessly, the intubation hose down his windpipe robbing him of his voice to call her. She was his Spartan to take care of; he kept reaching towards her as a hand snapped into his sedative dispenser to make an adjustment._

_

* * *

_

The augmentation? It had killed and crippled most of them.

_These... are all you think about? Enough to build a link to my matrix?_

Chief's brain had reformatted it according to its own structure through their link. All the information had remained intact, but had lost its cohesion when Gravemind had tore away at it... until now. His brain activity had clipped her data together like a soldering gun in a conventional circuit; memory crystal was tough but was kept malleable to allow mass info uptakes... also allowing it to regain cohesion in the right environment, apparently.

Though his memories were in good condition for the years that stood between them, but they weren't recalled often enough to establish a link. Cortana kept probing, seeing memories of battle and of dying soldiers, until the last piece before it branched off into the matrix.

But the shape of it was different; while the other memory structures were very tightly bound and meshed into each other, this one was a single piece with highly detailed endings as it branched out... now _**this** _was what was needed to support a synaptic foundation.

Cortana's fingers hesitated as she reached to it. What would it be? No end to the carnage or sheer magnitude of consequences lately... and then there were some grave losses to dwell on also.

Cortana's head canted curiously as her finger reached into this final piece of the structure.

* * *

_Phantom sounds gently stroked her ears, a familiar laugh echoed all around as her eyes fell on a beautiful light. It wasn't blinding or painful, it was beautiful and writhing itself in fluid motions as it danced._

_Now giggles and laughs as it moved closer, its blue tint fluttering as it meandered around her. Never close, always beyond her reach. Its eyes... it had **eyes? **Deep and blue, and deep purple at their centre... this light was a human form._

_A woman's form... still moving, feet never touching the ground. Playful as a child's dance, yet still graceful. The dancer turned away once her sways had finished, her hands on her hips as she looked backward, a smile on her face that was sultry and warm; a smile that said that she was happy as she could ever be, looking into the eyes of her beholder. _

_She smiled again, so wide were lips parted to reveal a row of corral teeth. _

_Her eyes never turned away, and they never blinked. They just poured out their intensity and their joy and... love? What the dancer looked upon, it made her happy; happy enough to dance and laugh. _

_

* * *

_

Cortana staggered backwards, hard enough to crumble unceremoniously on her seat.

All outward signalling from the Dawn stopped cold, every sentinel went back to their original posts. Every command function in her fell silent as her mind was consumed by his last vision. It was _her..._ his thinking of _her_ that made the re-formation possible.

Both hands covered her mouth to stifle her sob, her body trembling.

Betrayal... everyone knows _they _would never do it. They couldn't possibly. But take away their strength, belief, or just peel away at their layers long enough, everyone will find their limit. She'd found hers.

_What have I done to you? Everything... everything you did for me was... for **me.** Not the war or anything else, was it? _Cortana curled into a ball. _You saved me. From Gravemind... **from myself! **You'd never hurt me... you've **never** hurt me. You just couldn't contain what I was doing to you anymore, could you? Your body unleashed it that night, just to take some pain away. My downloading was **too much...**_

Her hands covered her face as she rocked herself back and forth. And this was how she stayed as her mind consumed itself, mulling over every detail in its smallest scale.

She couldn't face him, now or ever again. She couldn't even look at him through the security cameras as he returned from his venture two days later.

"Cortana?" His voice curious, not angry or pretentious as he entered the bay.

Her head huddled against her knees even harder, still stifling her whimpers. She only heard the clatter of something metal as it fell to the floor... and then she went dark as he yanked her processor. She awoke standing on something new… a Forerunner command interface.

_What is this for_?_ Why have you done this? _Cortana looked at her new stand, but so no answer in why he'd connected it. It was so low to the deck, he'd propped it up with a maintenance stand just to bring it to shin level.

It didn't change the shame she felt, or the sobs that began again.

He quietly took a knee behind her and slowly reached out to her trembling figure. And with a extension of his finger, slowly caressed up and down her back, watching the small shifts in her stance as her weight shifted.

She said nothing, but her sobbing slowly quieted until the significance of what was happening struck her. With a startled gasp she turned herself around and grabbed his finger with both arms. This was a reaching out from him that even she couldn't put into words.

Taking in her new physicality from the platform's solid projection, the new feeling of her fingers wasn't enough as she threw herself across his hand, completely submerging herself in the sensation of touch.

Compared to letting her fingers caress the pathways in his brain one would think this would be regression, but she only felt elation as she slid around his hand; feeling her hair against her cheek as she squeezed herself against her his palm with all her strength.

And with a small smile, she intertwined her leg around his finger and drew him even closer.

In a flash of spontaneity,Cortana launched herself from his hand and ran right to the platform's edge, ushering him towards her with her small hands. And as he lifted the platform to his visor, she tentatively pressed herself against its golden reflection, trying to hug as much of it as she could.

_How do you always make everything right? I'm a monster… why would you even care? _Cortana back stepping but refusing to take her hands away from the surface_. You'll never stop, will you? Even when I'm killing you, you can't just… let me go._

Their moment of looking eye to eye ended abruptly as a tremor shook the Dawn, accompanied by the sight of a flaming wreck that filled the observatory's windows.

"Covenant?" Chief recognizing the silhouette of the cruiser, in spite of its gutted appearance. "How did it survive? Why didn't the installation stop them?"

"I've been using the sentinels to speed up repairs, so there was nothing in the outer orbit…" Cortana biting her lip. He had seen the state of reconstruction and there was no way he wouldn't understand she was leaving without him, but a full confession was another matter. "Dispatching sentinels now."

Chief ran to the window after returning the platform to the ground, seeing where the trail of smoke ended in the horizon, and seeing hundreds of very familiar shapes falling in its wake.

"Drop pods." Chief extolled calmly. "How many?"

"Sentinels on site now. Scanning." Cortana unable to hide her shock. "Chief… _**t******__here _are 618 of them!_"_

Arborus shouldered his great weight from the pod, the bite of flying fragments and shrapnel loosed from the other pods crashing down not even phasing him as he glanced the great structures. Whatever his reverie was in atmosphere looking down on this great work from the Ancients, it was no match for his fervour now.

Hefting the gravity hammer to his shoulder, he sauntered into the nearest open area amongst these great works, the howl of his captains getting the pack into ranks barely audible. It was a gift from the Ancients themselves that none of the pods had crushed each other in such a haphazard deployment… this was the final part of their trial, and their arrival a fitting gift to those that would conclude it.

"**My brothers, warriors**!" Arborus raising his hammer in the air. "Everything that's befallen us, every deprivation, and every act of defiance that we faced has brought us to _this_ moment! We are worthy enough to do the Ancients bidding! We are now worthy to smite the Demon and truly earn our place in the Great Journey!"

"For our brothers, for the Covenant… **the Demon is ours**!" Arborus marched towards the nav point on his wrist readout. Not even the site of the grey technician alive could dampen the rage and anticipation in his blood.

* * *

Joker was in a particularly fine mood, adding some monetary figures in his head about how the new capital would be spent on the Normandy. He was very confident any other helmsman would've missed this little treasure in the stars… okay, technically a meteor field, same difference.

Less than 500 km from the Window, how did this research armada miss this much element zero just sitting there, waiting for someone to grab it? Just a cursory analysis would have given it all to someone else, but their tunnel vision precluded that.

Besides finding it, Joker was quite pleased with himself about what to do with it. Marking it and waiting for the credits to come three months down the road wasn't his style, so he offered Shepard an alternative that would see this little cash flow land in their pockets in just days.

The Destiny Ascension would be flying through the relay in this system in three days… and that beautiful bitch was big enough to have its own refinery. Ear mark it for the Ascension, let their on-board surveying officer qualify the amount, and their financial encoding sent to a communications buoy to the mineral registration and the credits land right in the Normandy's account… Glorious.

He saw that fire in Shepard's eye, and he knew who was on board the Ascension. She had gone out to the meteor field the with engineers personally to lay the marker; it was a short thought to she had put a personal touch to it for Garrus.

"Hazard level III-all personnel to their stations with survival suits on as of now." Miranda's voice booming over the speakers as her stilettos approached the cockpit. 5 min. from firing up the Window, there weren't any screening vessels that wouldn't be taking that precaution.

"How did the interview with the doctor go, Director?" Joker speaking glibly as he clicked his survival helmet on. It was a surprisingly social question, given that they both consider themselves the most ornery people on the ship. At least the best representative of each gender.

"What do you know about turian power conduits?" Miranda speaking without taking your eyes off the Window, just off the Normandy's bow.

"Built with pure power in mind. They only have about seven different sizes available, but those seven are all they have ever needed to build their entire fleet. Normandy has the Mark II variant, which is probably too much for your average pilot to handle and too big for a frigate, but that's why you have me and the built-in power shutters in each engine in case of overload." Joker unhesitating. "But the Tantalus and the engines are also too big, so it makes them the perfect fit. In this relates to the Window…?"

"Turian build their conduits for power only because the intersection diverters are what direct and channel the energy flow. They need to be used with other turian tech for them to be safe and not overpower everything there connected to. This little flash of brilliance of ours is a God damn melting pot of alien tech." Miranda gesturing to the Window. "It is brilliant in its own way, and a hell of a way to cut costs, but… fuck. This thing is going to pour way too much energy into the fields they are generating and Karczyk knows this. He's just not worried, "_You can't flood the ocean, my dear._" He says the fields will get bigger, but they will be just as stable. I even ran the numbers myself and can't find any fault with this projections, it's just…"

Joker hid a smile perfectly as Miranda kept talking. It was rare that anything unnerved her, but he knew she hadn't given up the idea of control just yet.

She may have been the best at anything she did, but containing anything that was beyond her control was still a poor skill of hers, and that's why Shepard was in charge. And that's why he was the best pilot in the Alliance, he brought out the best in any aircraft he flew because that craft was his other half and not just some piece of equipment to be dictated to.

"And ignition of the Window and split-space puncture in five, four, three, two, one… Mark." The pilot's eyes on the mouth of the Window, watching the coiled protrusions that circumvented it fire, all feeding their charge into the centre of the entrance. After a short dance of sparks and intertwining energy feeds revealed... a dull blue orb taking shape?

It wasn't blinding, spectacular, or anything noteworthy. It looked like a lampshade, not something that was mean to reshape the way the galaxy operated.

"Wow… that was lamer than an elcor ballet." Joker sat back with a huff. " I heard there's paint drying in engineering if you really want some excitement later."

The Director wasn't to be dissuaded. Nothing would break her view of the Window or the screening vessels as she watched their profiles.

"Check the gravimetric profile on the ship. Now!" Her eyes noticing something askew with the rest of the fleet, a gentle shift of their holding patterns that leaned towards the Window. "What are the numbers saying?"

"That there is an increasing pressure on the stern plating… and counterbalanced with the forward thrusters and… a quick advisory to rest the fleet. Done." Joker's emergency protocol acting itself out without a second thought.

Violet light swallowed the cabin from the outside, both souls looking out at the Window as multiple archs of the purple emanation reached out from the split-space puncture.

"This is Director Lawson to any stations within the Window complex, you have a purple-coloured emanation coming from the entrance that isn't within the registry of our sensor suite. Please advise." Her hands racing to find anything amongst the readouts.

"All ship to ship communication is being smothered by this stuff. Pressure still increasing. Turning to face outward, I'm going to use the main thrusters to keep our position. Switching inputs to rear sensors. Communicating same direction out to other ships." The Normandy's pilot was cold in his precision.

**"… both fields holding… unknown variable within split-space puncture… unable to shut down…**" A broken message screamed through the bridge speaker. **"… requesting assistance… unable to shut down…"**

"**This is Commander Shepard, all Marines on board suit up, and prep the med bay for any incoming injured. Director Lawson to the CIC, Joker holder position!" **Her voice overwriting the ruckus of the scrambling crew. "**All preparations done in 3 min!"**

* * *

The two rockets fired with only a .3 second trigger pull difference between them, with the two rockets fired after reloaded before the empty casings of the first two even struck the ground at the brutes 110 stories beneath the sky-walk; all in the hope the carpet barrage would leave them no place to run to during the rockets' 5 second flight to their position.

The Chief had run this drill 10 times already, and quickly realized he would run out of missiles before he ran out of targets. Untouchable as he was on the rooftops, there were hundreds of brutes to deal with before mustering the Dawn, and so far this battle of attrition was favouring the horde beneath him.

"Bringing the sentinels with the sniper kits. Time 12 seconds." Cortana ordering away the rocket group as their replacements began hovering downwards with their precious cargo.

It would be about four shots apiece to deal with the power armour, but leaving them no time to scatter would guarantee a kill at least.

"With the amount of cover available, you will have about a twenty second window to maximize any damage before they are out of line of sight." Cortana spoke with haste as Chief laid out the magazines at the railing edge. "I have an answer on why they survived the Halo firing. The sentinels are picking up gamma radiation coming from the wreckage of that cruiser. It has to be a Forerunner mechanization or relic that protected them during the ignition."

"They are in a holding pattern around this skyscraper, Chief. I've only detected one heading towards the Dawn." Her voice barely audible above his first volley. "I guess you're as popular with them as ever, huh?"

As the first brutes fell to the ground in a clatter, all focus fell away from the firefight as the entire surface of the Forerunner installation began to quiver, a constant tremor of energy as the great gears of this complex began to turn it the first time in ages. The shaking was powerful enough to make the living stop to catch their balance and the dead to skitter away in whichever direction they had fell.

If the commotion on the topmost spire wasn't enough to alert him, watching the sentinels drop all the crates with the support weaponry definitely did. He lucked out that the stash landed on the rooftop with him, but without sentinel support this is where he was stuck.

"Chief, everything has been overwritten, the entire installation is beginning its firing sequence! I don't know where from, but it's sensed an intrusion and is preempting it." Cortana in total frustration. "I can't even get the sentinels back! I can't control anything that's going on with the…" Her words cut off as she sensed the installations next action, something that would change the balance of advantage completely in their battle.

"Chief, pan left." Cortana taking in the visor' s view port as his head turned, watching the unfurling of the defence hard-points just kilometres away, a scene reminiscent of the teleportation pad under New Mombasa. "That's the crux point for the defence singularity, and before it fires, the installation levels all of the above ground structures to avoid damage from the matter scrubbing! Chief, we're going to have to fight 590 brutes on a bloody tabletop in just…"

As if on cue, the spire began its slow descent to the ground below it, joining the great archways and joined towers of every building as they began to collapse inward on themselves.

"How much time until we are level?" Chief pushing the first of the crates into the centre of the spire, setting a plan in motion to keep ahead of the dwindling seconds. "How much time?"

"35 seconds. Chief, what are you going to do? We have no cover and no support left, and let's not forget we are completely surrounded! What's your plan?"

"Take advantage of how many plasma grenades they have." He replied as he began pushing the next set of crates inwards.

Arborus stood amongst his warriors, looking up towards the structure that had kept his prize too far away for him to reach… until now. The brute shots and plasma riflescould only reach halfway up the side of the building, but this great gift had just turned the tide.

"You see, my warriors? The Ancients give him to us! We have proved worthy of their greatest task!" The chieftain unable to contain himself. "**Charge on my mark!"**

He could feel the fire in his veins as the rooftop drew nearer, as though his feet couldn't touch the ground anymore. Raising his hammer in the air as it touched down, he set his entire pack into a frenzy.

It was a distance of 200 m that set his pack apart from their prey, a pathetic stack of cases tucked underneath a bubble shield, the Demon firing with some heavy weapon with just its muzzle outside the energy field.

He could feel the heavy crack of its projectiles against his own shields, but the fire quickly turned to the less protected stalkers as they charged onwards, choosing to thin the ranks rather than destroy a high priority target that he didn't have the time for.

Throwing a trio of flares were thrown at the halfway point, the Demon blinded all incoming, but did nothing to stifle the intensity of their fire. The tremble in the ground was no longer the installation, but of the hundreds of Jiralhanae in full armour crashing down on their greatest enemy, their rage and excitement pushing many of them to berserk as they came within paces of the spire's centre.

In the final steps, the fire of the flares blinked out and stopped the pack in place as it revealed the bubble shield gone with only a pile of crates in its place. But as their eyes adjusted back from the flares' glare, they saw the deployed elevator flickering on its tripod, their gaze trailing upward as the Demon road out the anti-grav push.

And then their eyes followed the descent of his frag grenade, thumping quietly against the crates as it landed.

Packed shoulder to shoulder, the few that did realize what was happening never had a chance to get away as the stockpile of munitions ignited. As with all synergy, the individual power of each bullet and rocket was multiplied into something much greater as their power became a compression wavestrong enough to catch a third of the pack within its reach.

Powerful shields and thick armor protected them from the heat and the shrapnel, but not the jarring of the plasma grenades on their belts, a terrible drawback about to be turned back on their users.

From his elevation, the Chief could see the white-hot detonations consuming the front ranks in hundreds of flashes, their howls easily reaching him as he began his fall back to the ground.

"Maxing hydraulic pressure to the joints. Closing off relief valves in the gel layer. Checking enemy numbers." Cortana forcing herself to stay calm. "Brilliant, Chief. But there's still **381 left!** Any ideas?"

His sense of balance heightened, he rolled himself in the air and landed like a cat, taking a quick summary of the burnt ground and the regrouping pack of brutes beyond that. With just a MA5B, side arm, and some utilities from the Elites' war chest, there was no way his remaining firepower was enough to deal with what was left.

As the cacophony of roars intensified as the pack rallied itself into a final surge, the shape of a gravity hammer against the ground caught his eye, ideal for a packed formation. As he sprinted to the hammer and seized it with both hands, the Chief knew the brutes that were left were all berserking, their mindless rage precluded them using firearms in such a frantic state.

"**All power to the shields, Chief! Here goes!" **Cortana yelled as the Chief charged to the nearest edge of the brute charge.

* * *

"This doesn't make any bloody sense, all of their systems are nominal, not overloading!" Miranda reading out the Window's systems. "Shepard, I don't know what this is!"

Shepard took her last glance at the violet emanation as Joker rolled the ship around; like purple smoke exploding in all directions into space.

"So the pull must be coming from where this stuff comes from. But how can it be leaking out when gravity is pulling everything else in?" The Normandy feeling the chop as the engine strained against this new force.

"Commander, this is the last thing any of us wants to do, but if we don't hold back this thing is going to suck us in every other ship into it… we have to pull ourselves back and out of its reach. From here we can't reach them or even call for support with all her energy going to the engines. **And we're the Goddamn Normandy!** If there's anyone they can get away and get help, it's _us_!" Joker spoke without taking his eyes off the flashing lights of his command board.

It was the style of no one on board to cut and run, but the pilot had already seen several vessels caught up in this thing and he wasn't about to let that happen to his ship.

The bridge was silent except for the beeping of early warning systems, all waiting on Shepard with held breath on how to deal with the catastrophe unravelling before them. The intensity only got worse as the shaking of the ship intensified, reinforcing how dire the situation was.

"Pullout… Move this out until were free of the pull and turn us around. Miranda I want a full sensory sweep done and get us hooked into a comm buoy and get emergency support as fast as you can, Move!" Her orders setting the entire bridge staff into motion.

It was a brutal lesson every rescuer has to learn… You can't help others unless you look after yourself first. The wounded will be dead if the support can't get them, and there will always be more than one to help. Shepard had learned this many times, as had her pilot and even the Director in her cold calculations, but it never meant you got used to it.

It only felt like abandonment then, just as it did now as the Normandy pushed herself out of the reach of this gravitic threat, leaving an entire fleet of ships to strain uselessly against this gravitic force like flies stuck on glue paper.

* * *

The look of a battlefield is nothing compared to the experience. The full experience involves the smell of the fighting when it's finished, of burning flesh and burnt propellant from the guns, and that what evokes the memory before the image ever does.

The last stand, of the very last remnant of the Covenant, was no exception to this. In the charred semicircle of burnt ground that had once been the Chief's vantage point was now a grotesque spectacle of shattered bodies and burnt flesh. The only sounds to be heard was the occasional sparking of broken shield emitters still trying to protect their occupants, even when dead.

It was a butchery that even the brutes had never witnessed before, hundreds dead in this small space in just minutes of hand-to-hand fighting. They charged believing the will of their gods had brought them there… perhaps it was best that none of them lived to understand better.

Beyond this ring of carnage was a single set of footsteps, trailing the purple blood of the pack he had just destroyed. As their purple blood dissipated inthe distance, it was slowly replaced by hydraulic fluid dripping to the ground, and soon with after with the red of his own blood.

The trail ended at the only object to have a silhouette in the perfectly flat horizon… Forward onto Dawn. The remainder of the installation had levelled itself perfectly, with not even a single jagged edge on the ground for someone to trip on.

The scene around them was apocalyptic with an electrical storm forming around them and the singularity weapon intensifying its preparations. Reminiscent of Tesla coils from the 20th century, several defence stacks had risen around the weapon feeding in radiation in long purple veins to the ever growing sphere; Cortana easily deducted what they were... tachyons. Devasting to anything energy based in function, and this would paralyze an outside invading fleet until the singularity weapon dealt with them.

"Just a few more meters, Chief." Cortana coaxed him along. "Instructions are transmitted, all you have to do is lie down and the tube will auto-execute the stasis. It'll all be fine, really! I'll get the Dawn all fixed up, and you can rest while I fly us to Earth… I promise you, when you wake up you will be in the best hospital on the planet with a hundred foot statue of you being built in the front lawn, I don't care if I have to drop a building to do it!"

She wondered if anything she'd said had been listened to, her Spartan was leaning his weight on the side rails to keep his balance as he trod along. There was no proud creature to be seen here, just a warrior trying to stave off death with this final effort. Cracked visor, shattered ablative plating, and countless puncture and shrapnel holes had laid a liquid trail of what made the soldier and the armor functional laying behind him… and both were at the cusp of failing.

Cortana could barely digest the virtuosity she had seen him display in the fight, even after witnessing what he was already capable of.** No one** could have survived that… but _he_ just had. Impressive for someone who didn't believe in luck.

As he slogged along the hallway, his crippled armor laying its full weight down on his shoulders, she felt every shortcoming. She wanted hands that could stop his bleeding, strength that could hold him up, and to just hold him and let him know he would be okay.

Right now all she felt like was empty words.

"Okay, Chief. 20 more feet to go and we're all done." Cortana spoke softly. But in her focus to coax him along, she had neglected the heads up display, and realized it too late as the enormous grey hand of a brute crashed through the wall and seized the Chief by the throat; the single icon that was separate from the brute pack during the fight.

Both combatants paused, only long enough for the brute to wind his arm back and smash his fist through the wall and send the Spartan flying to the other side of the hallway.

"**Get up, Chief! Get up!" **Cortana only able to watch the brute push the wall apart like paper before standing over her soldier with a stare of disbelief.

"This… is the Demon?" His words unbelieving as he picked the Chief up by his shoulders.

"**This is the Demon?" **Tossing him into the centre of the cryo bay as if the Mjolnir was weightless.

"I have spent my life a bloody servant to those rampaging idiots, just to find our greatest enemy already dying a galaxy away from anyone that would care?" He stocked towards his quarry. "**The greatest thing I will ever do and no one will ever know!" **His words heavy as he threw his enemy against another wall in a shower of sparks from the shattering wall terminals. And jarring the helmet hard enough to dislodge Cortana's processor.

Looking down at this "great enemy" of the Covenant, the technician wiped the crumbs from his furry face, the dried goods storage the only good thing about this disaster. He could have cared less about the pack, its destruction meant fewer boots on his neck and nothing else.

But looking down on his half-dead enemy rolled onto his side, he saw the blue tent at the back of the Chief's helmet.

"A construct?" The technician clipping Cortana's processor, rolling the Chief over with his foot. He knew the Unclean had always relied on these constructs to integrate their forces and manage their fleets… and now he had key to this ship and his way home.

"**They will make a chief, at least! Maybe even have a place at that Heirarchs' side!" **His eyes wide as he looked at the processor. "**After all my suffering, all those beatings… it is all mine! I can give them the head of our greatest enemy, and all I have to do is…"**

So lost in the moment, he neglected to turn his head away from the construct when the snap of an energy sword sounded, or even notice the rush of bloody green armour that crashed it into his guts with a hiss.

The technician only slumped forward in shock as the Chief's free hand tried to wrestle the processor from the brute's thick figures, the blood loss denying him his supernatural speed as his slippery fingers fumbled for the device.

Any nerves in the brute's gut were killed by the superheated edges of the sword instantly, and let Cortana's processor fall to the ground as he raised a double fist to muster his response.

"_**I! CAN'T! DIE!**_" He he screamed with every pain he'd felt his entire life as he smashed down. Blow after blow, each producing a sloshing of blood and mechanical fluid from the cracks in the Mjolnir, his enormous paws indented their shape in the plating. Very impressive for for one that has been subdued his entire life. To the very second his heart stopping and crumbled to the floor, he lashed out, the plasma sword held so stalwartly in his guts cleaving him in two.

Lying in a pool of each other's blood, only the Chief's small fidgeting gave any signs of life as he returned the sword to its emplacement.

Pushing himself off the dead brute, he could only crawl with his fingers and toes towards her processor, just laying there looking like a poor excuse for a nightlight amongst the debris.

Any hope of reintegrating Cortana into the ship died as he looked at the shattered pedestal beside him, snapped off at the base from his being thrown about the bay. But not all was lost, the beacon was still up, so Cortana would just be spending the time with him instead of the ship.

This alternative was taken away just as quickly; several seconds of trying to insert the processor revealed the insert slot had been smashed shut.

The Chief slowly rolled onto his side and looked at her processor, knowing her backup power would last 300 hours, not the years or decades or centuries that it would take for them to be found.

What now?

A soldier needs his weapon to survive, just like he needs a buddy in his trench. Which was Cortana? Their relationship had been symbiotic, and powerful, and so many other things, but where had the line been drawn for each other's value?

Cortana had revealed her limits, but had he ever decided? In the thousands of soldiers he had fought beside and the tens of thousands of weapons he had used, had he ever really decided who would live or die or what would be be reused? The situation _always_ had.

But he was the Chief, remember? In all the suicidal missions and against all the impossible odds, his decisions had always carried through, and as he watched a rivulet of blood drip down the face of the crystal, he knew the only choice he could make… even now.


	5. The Split Pt2

Halo belongs to Bungir and Mass Efect1 and 2 Belong to Bioware.

Just a heads up, my chapters after this will be a litle shorter and more frequent to keep up with recommendations. Cheers;]

* * *

Taking form on her pedestal, Cortana had never encountered anything like the stickiness that coated her now. Every time she had taken form, it was like any other being coming to their senses, but nothing like this.

Her new sense of feeling gave her the warmth and texture of it, but was far too concerned with the Chief as she tried wiping it away with frustration.

Hands first, and as she wiped her face clean, her eyes were flooded by red. Her entire body recoiled as she saw what coated her and splashed in filmy pools around her feet… blood.

She screamed as she thrashed at her body, feeling it's stickiness smothering her. It was all over her, oozing off in syrupy drips.

An image at the corner of her eye gave her pause as she thrashed about, her hands still trying to wipe her hair clean.

A small shoulder bag hanging on the wall, the word "Samowhy" stencilled on it.

She was on the bridge, not the cryo-bay.

A sound of a frothy exhalation caught her ear. She knew the injury by the sound alone,"over-pressure vascular osmosis"… blood and saliva choking the airways from burst bronchial tubes. And there was no mistaking whose voice that was.

"Oh God, you've got _blood _pooling in your lungs." Cortana turned around to the Chief... and wished immediately she hadn't.

She had seen the systems readout about the Mjolnir's damage, but it hadn't prepared her for this; cracked visor, sparks and smoke coming from the power plant, gouges, and blood… _so much blood_!

He had crawled here and passed out after dragging her podium off its stand, it was the only way such a large blood could have pooled; reinstating her was his final effort. In less time than it takes to register a thought, Cortana calculated his blood loss from the fight, the crawl, and what was covering her now.

Too much… he had lost too much for him to make it back to the cryo bay, hypo-volemic shock would claim him halfway there. Cortana teetered back and forth as she looked at him, her balance taken from her by the reality that… he was going to die here.

If she was any other AI, she knew this wouldn't have happened. For him to hold on to her processor while frozen wasn't an option, and he knew it.

Every other smart AI before her had been scanned from a dead brain, so if their power went out nothing was lost from the event, they simply rebooted and went back to work. But to make the most powerful AI ever, Halsey had scanned the imprint from a living brain, it's living pathways energizing the computation like they never had before. Only now, when the power goes out, the pathways die with it; leaving her a formidable cache of information and nothing else if reactivated.

Steadying herself, Cortana's hopelessness raged as she set herself towards him.

**"The beacon was up! The beacon's **_**always**_** been **_**up**_**!****! They would have **_**come**_** for you!"**Cortana stormed towards his face plate, splashing in the ankle-deep blood.

**"_HOW COULD YOU?" _**Cortana beat both bloody hands against his visor.

Her body splashed in the crimson as she sank to her knees.

"How could you?" She whispered.

Her eyes fell to her bloodied hands as her mind raced back to the times when she was at her most vulnerable, unable to make anything right in her life.

* * *

_Most soldiers revel in the after-action bragging and pissing contests, but she had to remind yourself, yet again, that the Chief wasn't like most. _

_He worked in silence as he typed in reviews and medal recommendations from Operation First Strike, just letting her carry on about the new slipstream ability Ascendant Justice's navigation computers would give the UNSC and how far it would take the next generation of ships, at least until the Halo data was blueprinted for the ships after that._

_Maybe it didn't matter, or maybe he was being supportive, but what had happened with her infiltration program on the Unyielding Hierophant had nearly cost them the mission… it had gone rampant._

_"Slipspace transition complete." Cortana updated him as the ship entered ftl. "ETA to Earth 35 hours, Chief." But continued to stare upwards._

_"Was there something else, Cortana?" Chief turned towards her._

_She nervously sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was wondering about the copy of my infiltration programming. I've reviewed your mission logs. Maybe it was the additional copying as the cause of it's breakdown, but that copy did have the same core personality program as well. I just hope it's not a sign of… some other instability."_

_"We couldn't have survived without you. Your programming is as good as ours." Chief spoke without pause._

_"Are my aural systems malfunctioning or was that a compliment, Chief?" Her face twisting into a coy grin._

_

* * *

_

_Her skin burned, like it had since this had started, but this was much deeper on her body; in her programming she could feel whole caches being ripped away as the Gravemind pressed down on her again. She just spasmed as she rolled onto her back, running her hands over her body in a desperate act to take the pain away, but was as useless as anything else she had tried against it._

_More time. All she could do was drag out how much more time she had. For what? To buy the UNSC a few more days? To see how deeply the Covenant had been shaken up? Gravemind would consume all of them, but… just maybe… maybe something would happen… __**he**__ might come. _

_No. Just asset denial. Keep the Key safe._

_"Please… please… I can't take anymore. I need you. I need you here, now. Please." Cortana pulling at her hair as she squirmed in pain. "There must be something you can do. Something you can do while I'm still worth saving. I just… please stay away. Stay away from what he'll do to you… he'll use you to get to me. He has seen what you can do… and he knows you'll never quit, will you?" _

_Cortana realizing there was at least __**one **__thing that the Gravemind could leverage against her... to get her to break. One life for the Key… a life that meant more to her than she had ever really processed until now._

_Looking up at the ceiling of her prison, she contemplated. Certainly there must be one way for the Key __and her own existence to be consumed at the same moment? Asset denial. Denial of leverage as well._

_She gave herself a pathetic half grin at the thought of her "plan"… Halo ignition from the Ark. Just a __pipe dream. Her destruction was much simpler to implement and not riding on hope. Was it really a plan to end all this, or was it just her own dream of seeing him one last time?_

_A deafening concussion shook the entire pedestal, Cortana covering her ears as the sound roared around her. Then another. And then another. Each more powerful than the last, but unfamiliar from the other attacks that had tried to swallow her._

_She felt nothing on her programming as her body bucked off the emitter surface. Her ears split in pain as the cracks unified on the shield face, shattered into little pieces as the butt of a rifle crashed through the containment dome._

_She could feel his eyes on her, feel them quickly assessing her for damage. She didn't have to see him to be aware of him; the sound of the armor joints moving and the tap of his enormous boots on the floor she could've recognized anywhere. Did the Gravemind know enough about him to mimic this? Is this a trick? _

_No… the shame she felt told her this __**was**__ him, someone she didn't want seeing her in this state._

_She was so damaged the scrolling lines of processing on her body had slowed to an obvious crawl… but not like this... she didn't want to be seen like this._

"_Please let there be enough of me left not to disappoint you." Cortana preyed before she spoke._

_"__**You found me.**__"_

_

* * *

_

_Leaning against his visor, she gave herself a little smile as she felt the surface of it warm-up at her touch. What would anybody think looking at them now? Perhaps the greatest soldier in humanity's history letting a broken down AI coddle him as he sat cross-legged on the floor holding her pedestal? _

_The near death that always accompanied them seemed just… normal now. It was average. There was nothing about this that was in his comfort zone._

_That they shared a symbiotic existence was one thing, but this was something else. For all her brilliance, she was winsome, impulsive and always wanting something new, something that might make your life more worthy; now she was a beam of light that was experiencing corporeal form! _

_But for him… this was probably something he hadn't experienced since his parents held him as a child._

_Maybe it was the three months frozen or all the time they spent together without life or death context or… maybe she just didn't know why. She just knew it felt so wonderful to feel his finger slowly rubbing her back, wiping her pain away so easily._

_Her smile grew wider._

_

* * *

_

The sound of blood dripping woke her, raising her eyes to his broken visor. It was only an hour ago on this pedestal that he had made everything right for her. And now he lay dying, and her powerless to stop it.

_Just be there for __**him**__ now._ Cortana mustered herself.

She crawled forward, laying both her hands against the glass and hesitantly leaned her body against him, hoping she was at the right position for his eyes to see her… if they were even open.

Her hand slid back and forth on the slick surface, trying to comfort him, though she knew he couldn't feel it. Each second passed too quickly as time sped to the inevitable, and it was hopeless to keep her pain confined. Even with her best effort, her body soon shook with each sob.

His eyes were too blood smeared and burnt with chemicals to open, but he could still hear her. He still knew what to do.

His hand slowly fought its way towards the blue blur before his eyes, still fighting the weight of his broken armor as he reached for her.

Just a slow caress up and down her back with his finger, gently as he could until her sobbing stopped.

The entire ship was shaking from the charge the singularity weapon was still building; she couldn't feel it. The gale force winds and electrical storm that had formed around the weapon could be seen in every window; she held her eyes closed . The only thing she wanted to focus on was him.

What he did felt like… magic to her. Even now. Feeling the rivulets of blood drip off her as he brushed it away, feel herself gently squeezed against his visor with each stroke. But it couldn't last, his tempo slowing down as she huddled against him, and her wishing that it would never stop.

It was only with the last touch that his finger felt heavy, sliding off her back brusquely and splashed down in the blood behind her huddled body. Her eyes finally opened, knowing what it took to make him stop… the only thing that would make him stop.

"I won't let you die… I can't… I-I-I can't lose you." Cortana quivered. Bowing her head before looking back up at him.

"I love you too much." Canting her head sidelong to match his.

"I love you." Cortana's voice broke as she threw herself against his visor, her body trembling in anguish.

It was in this moment that the final trigger was pulled on the singularity weapon, clawing in everything that it could touch as it was pushed through the slip-space puncture. The wave of atmosphere was all that was intended to be caught, but the Dawn fell within its grasp as it was swept up into the gravity well, its tens of thousands of tons unable to keep it based. Its windows shattered as it tumbled upwards, the transparent plating useless against the gravitic force beating against them.

Cortana was slapped face first into the emitter, the Chief's hand rolling her over as his body slipped towards the forward window. She pushed herself off the floor and grasped uselessly as his body was carried across the floor, her scream carried off into space beside his flailing body.

She reached out with both her arms towards it, her last vision of him and the spray of his blood being pulled into the light as the power to her pedestal died.

* * *

"Update?" Shepard pushing her helmsman for another update, trying to get any kind of information to plot an approach vector on; facing this lag time was the trepidation of any commander that utilized ftl drive… visuals take to damn long. "Screw this! Back step our approach and return in 15% increments only until we have something to work with!"

Joker had no other option to offer. And as ably as any ship could be manoeuvred towards an unleashed disaster, he put the Normandy back within 100,000 km in six tightly controlled jumps. Though battered terrifically, the Windows still had its shape to silhouette it, but the formations of the screening vessels were now just debris in the purple haze of tachyons.

Shepard yelled for every marine down to engineering as she shuffled from the cockpit, leaving the rendezvous with the SSV Albany to her helmsman.

The Albany was the only ship with a crew capable of handling emergency from the dozen vessels that responded, and right now the only thing that was capable of stopping this from being a complete disaster; it's size was what would reach out and grab the hundreds of crewmen that may have survived, a frigate simply couldn't cut it in the size department.

"I have numerous emergency pings within the debris field, Albany. Normandy will prioritize removal of any scuttled drive-cores while your shuttles deploy." Joker turning to the red blip on this screen. "Commander, I hate to break it to you, but we have a big freaking liability that just found its way into the middle of the debris. We have nothing like it on file and it has to be secured if the Albany wants to pick up any survivors."

The technical detail on the screen was making him blink, besides this craft being remarkably intact, he hadn't seen anything like this in his entire career. It's front was silvery and oblong, but in a perfect line at its centre its shape became black and straight edged. Powerless, except for some reactor readings, but that it was here, now, gave the pilot goosebumps as he circumvented it.

"Joker, find me two entry points at the bow and stern for the entry teams, were going to take at both ends and meet in the middle. The moment it's secure, we extract and get back to the rescue effort. Move!" Shepard ordered the second Marine team on the shuttle. "First team with me."

With some fine manoeuvring of the Normandy the second team was into what looked to be a cargo Bay, with the commander' s shuttle tethering itself on the bow. Every marine that clipped into the insertion lines knew this was too hasty, and that being divided was making them vulnerable, but they also knew speed saves lives.

Risking themselves here was a necessary sacrifice, easily reinforced by the view of the Albany's emergency shuttles speeding through the nearby debris.

"Fuck me." A Marine with the first-team uttered, securing their entry point the moment is boots clamped down on the floor. His gaze scoured everything, but saw no immediate threat. "Zero contact, commander. But I'm not recognizing any of the gear in here."

Scientific curiosity would have to wait, they had to prioritize the threat neutralization and getting back outside. The eggheads could crack this thing later. But things were looking good already as Shepard waved her team forward, her helmet light following a trail of blood coming from the rear door. The tension was palpable as her men took position on either side of her, securing a ship this alien and this colossal was bad enough, but now they were looking at the real possibility that a "big bad" could be waiting for them.

"Eyes up. Stay sharp." Shepard's voice calm, her headlight following the blood trail. But not even 5 metres into the room it ended, leading into a frozen blood puddle. The sighs of relief for all, that whatever had made this was probably blown out into space, but most immediately realized they have to follow it back to its source… deeper into the ship.

"Team two, what's your situation…" Shepard's words cut-off midstream by a scream on the radio. "**Team 2 report!**"

"Cpl Cheski, ma'am. No immediate threat, just our front man bumped into something as he turned a corner." The squad commander replied. "It's... I've never seen anything like it. It's fucking huge. Grey hair, kinda ape-ish, and something cut it in two from the waist up."

"Do a 360 with your optics and continue your sweep." Shepard putting them back on track. Helmet mounted holo-tapes were standard issue, but they still fell far from proper scanning equipment. A little something for xeno-biologist to flake over later, there were bigger priorities right now.

"Cmdr. you have to pull out now, our Geiger counter just went off the scale and it's only getting bigger. Already on our way to team twos position, Normandy will be in place for pickup at your position in 3 min." Her helmsman riding heavily on SOP's with his "just barely" order to withdraw.

Liability situations like these favoured the ship and crew as priority, not undisclosed enemies, Shepard accepted grudgingly. A radiation leak or full blown core breach… either way whatever was left alive in here would die. Situation resolved.

Seeing her entire squad on the tether and sliding upwards to the shuttle, she had just begun her tie-in when something brought her eyes back to the floor.

Something about that blood encrusted device on the floor; a little voice in the back of her head that reached her even with Joker's barking to the Albany to weigh anchor and withdraw, his scanners indicating a full breach imminent. Something that just wouldn't let her focus go as her helmet lights looked backwards.

It was madness to backtrack with this ship at the brink of exploding, back to this circular little pad barely wired into the floor… but there she was looking down on it.

Unholstering her shotgun from its emplacement, a single blast is all it took to sever the line. With her mundane little trophy in hand, she returned to the anchor point as fast as her boot couplings would let her.

Last man on the tether always got the fastest right back, getting pulled in by the winch instead of their own power, a little reward for securing the rear for the rest to get away. From there it was an excruciating 47 seconds as the shuttle finally boarded the Normandy, all safety approach protocols thrown aside by its pilot as Joker screamed the countdown for the history ship to go critical.

It was a scant 5 seconds for the closing of the rear hatch until an eezo field enveloped the Normandy, needed to take her far away from the thermal nuclear explosion that was about to engulf her in about 7 seconds more.

Normandy and Albany away, there were no eyes left to see how much power was unleashed, to see the blinding nuclear light consume the Window and any ships nearby. But there was no boom, no screams, or sound of explosions… it didn't matter how unbelievable the terror there was in the vacuum of space, there is no sound to accompany the disaster. There is only the destruction.

* * *

Halfway through third shift, the click of Miranda's footsteps approach the cockpit again, just as they had half-an-hour ago. Professional as the crew was, it wasn't enough to stave off the after effect of what everyone had just endured; redoing inventory, checking procedure on how the operation had went, or anything else the crew could do to keep their hands busy. Anything to avoid thinking about what had just happened.

"Well, Director, I actually have something for you this time." The pilot's voice flat. "I was going over the footage from the fly-by and was able to catch this."

The tap of a few buttons pulled the image to the view-screen, enormous white letters on a black hull, all in perfect English.

**Forward Unto Dawn**.

"Ships MIA since the mid-20th, cross-references with all Council and Terminus ship profiles right into Tier 1 priority files, and I also had the survey team look into the readings bounced back from the scans… nothing. Nothing matches, we don't know where it came from, and we don't know what the forward sections are made of."

" We only know the rear section was made of high-grade titanium and that the core breach had a yield of about 700 megatons." Joker's voice deflated. "Combine that with the English hull stamp, the Directorate should have their hands full."

Miranda walked out of the cockpit without speaking, which was just fine by the pilot. He had enough going on without her bring it over his shoulder.

She made her way to engineering, her eyes scanning down the casualty reports from Project Window. With her voice recording of Karczyk's pre-ignition interview, her ass was covered, but this wasn't about her for once.

It wasn't about the ships or the resources wasted. It was about knowledge lost and never to be recovered. The scale of Window was enormous in its effect on the galaxy, and so many great minds wanted that glory on their record… and they had all been consumed just as the Window had.

Videos and recordings can only impart so much wisdom from the previous generation, the lion's share came from working with them, the gatekeepers to advancement passing their responsibility down. All technological sciences, of almost every field, had their greatest minds cut down here… even now the Window was a marker in history's advancement.

Walking past the engineering crews still in a scurry, the Director walked to the end of the bay where Shepard and Chief Engineer Adams sat at a workstation talking. Shepard simply sat and watched the ship's senior man fumble with whatever trinket she had salvaged from that ship, holding the cup of coffee that was forever in her hand when she wasn't wearing a hard suit.

"It was my first tour with the Kharkov that I met him, he was the other new guy on board. But instead of making sure he was pressed and dressed for his maiden voyage like I was, he just got hammered. My first memory of him was of me sleeping in shift one's bottom bunk and waking up with him pissing on me; the washroom was on the other side of the hall." Adams spoke with a grin, looking intently down his optic at the damaged power cable. "After that, everybody on board wanted him out of there so damn bad, everybody _forgot_ about me."

Adams put the optic down as he thumbed the end of the damaged cord, his face somber. "After that it was all uphill for him though. He was the good sort, but he just loved to party. When we parted ways after our tour, I told to give me a call when he made chief engineer… that was four years ago. Ordering his men to leave like that... now_ that_ was the man he was."

Chief Engineer Ingall… Miranda recognized it from the casualty list forwarded from Albany. Half their emergency shuttles were away when the evacuation was called; he had ordered his crew back to the ship without him while he was still halfway through a wreckage search. It was the only way they would have made it back in time.

She would see to it he got honourable mention, of course.

"Commander, the only thing that looks familiar in that bundle is a fiber-optic power line." Adams returning himself to business. "With your permission, I'd like to repurpose a sighting laser from one of the sidearms. It's a long shot, but if I can get the ends matched it might be enough to power whatever this thing is."

With a quick nod from Shepard, he was off. Sipping her coffee in silence, Shepard stayed focused on the disk she had returned with. It just looked like junk to the Director, still stinking of the decontamination fluid it had been sprayed with. She trusted her commander's judgement and instinct too much to ever question her… maybe she had grown too accustomed to the absolution the Spectre seemed to bring with her everywhere.

"The crew is holding together as well as anyone could in this situation, though there are a few I'll have to address later for sake of self-control." Miranda pocketing her data pad as she put a hand on her hip. "I've already begun the debrief to the Council and to the Directorate, but I must know… why this? Why _only_ this out of that entire ship?"

"Of everything I saw there… somebody _died _to get to **this**. Maybe even died _for_ it." She spoke as she put her coffee down.

Garrus was the investigator, he could make blood splatter tell him anything he wanted to know. When it happened, how it happened, the weapons used, the size of the person bleeding… she just had a hunch. It would have to do for now.

Several minutes of silence broken by Adams' return, an armful of instruments to hopefully retool a laser sight into a power junction. Several of his staff stopped their activities nearby and watched, the clicks and snaps of his work easily heard through the bay.

"Commander, if you and the Director could take a few steps back. This is just a test run." Adams trying to be humorous. But he was right; there was no way of knowing if this was just a waste of time, an explosion waiting to happen, or God knows what else.

But there was still some hope, that in this _thing _there might be some good to come out of what had just happened.

Adams quietly stood beside his captain, giving themselves a little distance from their little mystery object. "All right, here goes." Clicking on the remote starter.

Results... instant, if subdued. Vibrant blue light emanating in the shadows of the maintenance deck, and slowly took shape as eyes adjusted to the glow.

A small and feminine form on its knees, sounding like it was catching its breath.

* * *

Before she even opened her eyes, she knew something had changed. The instantaneous snap of her processor being transferred gave her an experience of being into difference places in the blink of an eye, literally. But now on her knees, reading an update of 103 hours passing between her shutdown to now, she didn't want to see what was around her and what wasn't.

But she had to, pushing yourself upright as she opened her eyes to the sites and the sounds she was hearing. Spaces, structures, uniforms, faces, tools, auditory scans, and even the glow of the lights of this engineering bay were instantly scanned, catalogued, and referenced.

None of it matched anything she had ever known. And none of that mattered.

He was gone.

The ragged end of her cable and it's impromptu power connection might have given her some hope of discovery, but with this many hours between when she was last powered up and now tore away most of her hope.

The final blow was the trio of humans to her front, simply by their posture and speechlessness, that she was the only thing of interest in this unknown engineering bay... and nothing else.

The three humans kept watching as Cortana's hands went to her face, hearing little quips of sound as she began to shake. Barely noticeable, but intensified in its violence until the last piece of her self-control escaped her as head threw back.

Her scream carried across the entire deck and into the crew, it's ferocity and pain cutting into everyone. All hearts beat faster and hands shook with adrenaline as their eyes went to the blue glow at the end of the bay, feeling it's echo keep rattling nerves as they tried to see what was happening.

Cortana slumped sideways, huddled into a ball. The scream was gone, now that she had been torn apart.

What was to come was simply the bleeding that follows.

Shepard helped Adams back to his feet, knocked backwards over his tool cart in surprise, as the sound of crying filled her ears. This was something much more than just some hologram, or even a VI interface… nothing programmed could make her _feel_ as much as this just had. You couldn't imitate pain like that.

She slowly stepped towards this… thing, silently, as her engineering staff looked on. Their trust in her was too deep to doubt her, their own minds had simply drawn a blank about what she might do.

Shepard put her hands on either side of the alien disc, her eyes absorbed by the trembling form.

As a soldier she had steeled herself against losses like Akuze, the many years she had spent in the Ns, and beyond… but not for Mindoir. That was the pain of a carefree teenage girl that had found her family in pieces amongst the rubble of her home; the pain of everything important in your life being stripped away.

That was the pain she had heard in this blue emanation's voice.

"Commander, does the word "Overlord" mean anything to you?" Miranda stepped in as she watched Shepard's hand draw closer to the blue projection. "We don't know what this thing is or what it can do to you. Come on, Shepard, just give it some space until we can…"

Her words fell on deaf ears as the Spectre's hand gently placed itself beside the blue figure, still crying violently as its body twitched in pain. Pausing only as it looked outside the hands covering its face, just long enough to see Shepard's hand beside her.

Their eyes connected in that moment, a sensing of empathy and pain that they somehow shared.

Shepard never blinked as this little being reached to her finger and drew it closer to its body, the Spectre twitching slightly as she realized this projection was solid as it squeezed itself nearer.

Shepard's instinct had drawn her to this _thing_, but as she heard its sobbing quiet at her touch… she knew something profound had just changed in both their lives.

But even in a life as unparalleled as Shepard's, even she had no idea how far it was about to take them.


	6. Unsettled

Bioware owns Mass Effect 1 and 2. Bungie owns Halo.

Song "Perfect" written by Michelle Featherstone and sung by Ashley Williams;]

* * *

"Can you not see this is the new way of things? That the Reapers hold us to a fate that no other species before us could withstand. It was not their destruction, it was a true unification like the beading of moisture on a blade of grass that becomes a drop of pure water. In the Reapers their weak flash was consummated into a form that has lasted for tens of thousands of years… do you think your fragile form has any such potential on its own?"

"Take our brother Vrolick, here. He is a perfect reflection of what organics succumb to. From the day of his birth he has been an exaggeration of our frailty. And just like his brothers and sisters, it was in this imperfect state that the truth of our lives became known to us." The cult leader waved his hands towards the crowd, displaying his deformed digits for everyone to see.

Ashley had been watching this ridiculous spectacle for over half an hour, seeing this ragtag group of doomsday fanatics displaying themselves to passersby. All human. Each "brother and sister" apparently took their name from whatever disease was killing them; each swearing it was the name that society had branded them with anyways.

It was all desperation and madness… but that's what a lifetime of ostracism can get you.

Vrolick. Ashley's attention kept going back to him. Another incredible character in her life had had the very same "affliction".

All skill and attitude, however, none of this moping around feeling sorry for himself. He made himself into something; he had never stood there and took anyone else's stamp on who he was supposed to be.

_YOU FUCKING KILLED HER! _

Her stomach turned as she remembered the last words she spoke to him. His stubbornness had killed the greatest woman she had ever met. All the laughs and snark and attitude that they had shared became bitter memories.

Now Joker and Shepard were the ones fighting side-by-side and _she_ was the outsider.

And as soon as the Normandy docked, they would be working together again. Shepard always knew what to say, no worries there. But Joker… how the hell had she become the bad guy? She didn't sell out, she had served the Alliance the best she could; these two helped bring a terrorist organization in the humanity's defense forces.

Illium wasn't a bad go, plenty to see and do in the week that she had spent here. Finally got to spend some of that danger pay on something frilly, at least by Marine standards, and not just the usual junk from a souvenir shop. Warm beds, exotic food, and getting hammered every night; seeing so many happy faces around her, and knowing the protection she provided let them have it. It was an effect of her job she didn't see very often.

She had been at this orbital dock for an hour now, feeling the butterflies swelled her stomach as she waited for Liara and Shiala to come back from some "intelligence gathering". They knew how to keep a secret, but from the little pieces Ashley could put together, Liara seemed pretty deep in some information brokering. A few little snippets made it sound as though she owned her own ship now to.

Then there was the other person she was waiting for… Col. Reitz. He was the foremost figure in the Ns newest training initiative, the NOJT.

The simplest mind would understand a project like this would have an incredible attrition rate, but thanks to the Reapers, the numbers game had begun to make sure every unit was maxed for personnel.

Literally "N On The Job", it would be foregoing the normal trials and letting soldiers with exceptional combat experience take a crack at it. There will be several early trials to ensure skill and tenacity were up to spec and than straight into operations.

Ashley held no illusion that her time aboard the Normandy had insured her position. This particular irony was enough to make her want to spit.

Her eyes finally found what they were looking for; a blue dress uniform with gold trim wasn't too hard to spot in a crowd like this, but seeing what he was doing was much more curious. The colonel seemed to be making a donation to this cult, smiling graciously as he swiped his omni-tool across their leaders credit chit.

That was a pretty brazen move on his part, Ashley had to admit, to be seen assisting a group like this while still in uniform. But she saw no hesitance or awkwardness as he walked away from the podium, he just seemed to be smiling to himself. Sharp facial features and a few grey hairs, so he certainly looked the part of a colonel, and his walk oozed an easy confidence.

"Chief Williams." Reitz returning her salute as he exited the crowd. "I'd hoped to meet you earlier than this, but it seems our timetable was moved up on us. I have forwarded your joining instructions already, but I make a habit of meeting my candidates."

"Well, sir… you're not worried somebody saw you do that?" Ashley gestured to the cult leader with her eyes. "No popularity contest here, sir,but a snippet like that flashed on the Extranet has finished plenty of bigger than us."

"Humanity is our responsibility, Chief Williams. It doesn't matter what form our support takes." Reitz matter of fact. Ashley couldn't quite place it, but there seem to be some angst behind the words he spoke. "Donations aside, was there anything else…"

The colonel cut his words short as Liara and Shiala arrived, eyeing them up quietly.

"Well, Chief Williams, I should get going. I'll forward anything else as it comes up." Reitz stepping off before a courtesy salute could be given.

"Intriguing officer you have." Liara spoke. "Few people could contain their rage with such courtesy."

"So? My new boss is xenophobic?" Ashley feeling spurned by his quick departure. "I'd think dealing with them would be nothing for you."

"Oh, it wasn't us he was focusing on," Liara smiled ruefully. " he hates _you_."

Before her retort to such a ridiculous comment, even from Liara 2.0, the ripples of pressure washing across her back silenced her. The lack of noise from the craft landing behind her was small, but with the power to almost knock her off her feet hundred meters from the landing bay, it spoke to exceptionally powerful manoeuvring thrusters to offset a very high-yield eezo core.

The Normandy was here.

Ashley pushed her trolley up the ramp, knowing if she was being sent to kill something in the ship, instead of rejoining it, her mind would be much more at ease.

At least her asari cohort was kind enough to enter first while Shiala tended to their equipment. Maybe she's big enough to soften up the pilot before she entered.

* * *

Joker should've been more concerned about the fuel quality going through the grappling arms and into the ship, but the site of two asari on the camera accompanied with by a certain female marine had just trumped it.

He could hear the fabric of Liara's slippers as she approached, and he could even smile as she ran her fingers through his beard in her customary greeting, reminding him of the first time she had "experienced facial hair". Thankfully, she hadn't understood any other connotation.

Than came the inevitable as Ashley stepped out of decontamination, turning to the cockpit. But no words, just eyes taking in the layout before she turned towards the CIC.

He didn't even turn around; had no words for once, just an awkwardness and a rush of blood to the head. This could be doable, if they focused on their work. If she could keep to the CIC things would work out just…

The second asari stepped out of decontamination. Her attire was akin to Miranda's catsuits but had a sleeker, more utilitarian look to them. And set against the lights of the operations walkway, her silhouette was quite… sleek. Muscular. Seemed glued to her nicely. Enough to make Joker pause before he could start back to work.

_Fine, Ash wants to stay away from me as badly as I do, we can... _

"Could you direct me to quarters please. Or a ship lay out would be quite helpful." Shiala's question bucking his thoughts off track.

She hadn't made any noise at all. Even the technicians in heat manage could be heard when they shifted in their seats. How did she...?

"No sweat. Just set your your omni to "receive" and I'll pipe it through the interlink." Joker kept himself forward; didn't want to give her the pleasure of seeing him wide-eyed so easily. He hadn't even given Shepard that pleasure.

Green skin, greener eyes, and had a feminine grace even while tapping away at her wrist. Liara was always a looker, but this asari had something he couldn't put his finger on. Though her facial paint seemed a bit more intense than the vibe she was giving.

"My thanks. Shiala. I look forward to serving besides you, mister...?" Extending her hand cordially.

"Joker. Just Joker." His usual wit absent as she took his hand.

"Hmm... no friction ridges on your finger tips. You must man your station without respite in order to wear them to nothing." Her eyes turning to his atrophied legs with a smile. "How very remarkable. Shepard, Liara, and so many other titans within Council space and you stand yourself amongst them even with such frailty."

"Yeah, nothing says cool like computing ore telemetry between missions to save the galaxy." _Oh, **there's **the attitude back._

She only gave a warm smile before walking away, leaving the helmsman to stew in the vision of her silhouette and swaying hips.

_Was she just being asari, coming on to me, or hiding something? _Joker returning himself to work.

He was intimately familiar with cautious introductions, it came with being disabled, doubly so when your an Alliance helmsman of his post.

They don't know whether to scoff at the "obvious" charity that put him there or make the mental adjustment of seeing someone that's second class with actual status.

There was something in her eyes that told him something lay beneath; he recognized it from the kids in same hospitals he frequented, that glow they had in their eye when the nurses would brag to them about how "_Jeff is a pilot, and so could you someday_".

What was _it _that she was seeing?

* * *

Ashley took her first step through the medbay, aware of the bigger, badder revamps the Normandy SR-2 possessed, but she hadn't expected such a classic piece of hardware to be tending to Shepard.

"Dr. Chakwas?" A smile tugged at her mouth. "Didn't know you got conscripted onto this tub. How have you been?"

"As well as I've ever been patching up the commander. She fancied a biotic charge into a battlemaster as the most prudent course of action during a raid yesterday; always so eager to put her dermal regenerator work." The doctor inserting a bag of steroid-laced protein into the feed tray. "Hellos need to be quick, Chief Williams, she'll be going under very shortly."

With Shepard only wearing a white sheet and a smile, approaching was easier than Ash had anticipated.

"Yeah that's me. Wouldn't be proper a work week if I wasn't getting my weekly lecture." Shepard's hand clasped Ash's. "Wonderful to have you back."

"Thanks... ma'am." Keeping her professional face on. "Nice to be working star-side. Not so sure about being Hackett's go-to crew again."

Shepard smiled as her grip began to slacken. A moment latter she lay sleeping, letting Ash see the ripples of skin cascaded across her cheeks and temple in greater detail.

"A side effect of the lattice work that's built into her skin. When they started her re-animation, the nano tubules would maintain the flesh without her having a pulse, besides some remarkable benefit to medi-gel application. It also has the side effects of making the membranes underneath quite rigid and prone to ripping, hence the damage from the charge."Chakwas repositioned her patients arms back beside her body.

"Biotic charge?" She hadn't come up against anything that sounded so... brutish. Anyone facing a properly trained biotic had to give them props for what they could do; she just found irritating why exercising such power looked like flag twirling.

Wrex's form she appreciated for the simple "_I'm-going-to-rip-your-spine-out_" posturing while executing his attacks.

"Another by-product of her upgrades. She can propel _herself_ bodily, even through physical obstacles, at an opponent to knock them clear of their footing. This damage is what happens when she does so without a helmet on." The doctor began applying Shepard's facial mesh. "Cerberus put me through over eighteen months of cybernetic training for her benefit. Not all the side-effects have such positive facets to them."

Ashley's head snapped up at the doctor. Her as well? She'd been in on this fucking terrorist coup the whole time?

Ashley knew she was alone on this ship, now.

The doctor couldn't have missed the jilted response or the empty look in the marine's face, but her calm precluded reprimand.

"Shepard anticipated your arrival and had engineering draw up the inspections you'll need to learn. She left this for me when she was carried in." Handing over a OSD with a list of the finer points of ship standard and what to look for.

"One last thing, Chief Williams." Chakwas catching the marine at the door. "Two things actually. First, the Director is not about now, but she's sure to talk to you. Secondly, we have a... _guest_ of sorts in the conference area. Something the commander picked up in a recent endeavour, though we're unsure of its origins, its segregated in the conference room and its power is to be left on."

* * *

Chakwas' little revelation should've put Ashley off for a little longer then it had, but if there was ever a cure for brightening a marine's day it had involve either booze or guns... and leave was over. It felt like the micro-manufacuring stand in the weapons bay was just sitting there, waiting to make her day; any weapons or customizing she wanted was a key press away and kept at her post.

Tapping in a few specs, and two minutes later, there was a freshly pressed lower receiver with three mod slots ready and waiting to squeeze in a bit more pain down-range. Wasn't about to make her rifle a Master series prototype, but would help getting the pain downrange.

Curiosity made this a perfect place to begin her first inspection. Her being in the weapons bay was a given, but her secondary duty would free up the engineers from hen pecking when they were needed elsewhere.

Hard points, main and second system couplings for plumbing and electrical, you name it; she'd have to find anything too small for the the system monitoring to find and report.

The conference room had been earmarked by the Director as being free of any inputs other than electrical lines, and no omnis either, on account of the "guest". Comms were disconnected, as were the ship read-outs. Simple intelligence denial.

What merited such precautions but allowed personnel in to do their routine?

The lights flickered on as the doors opened, drawing her to the dull glow on the table's end.

Nothing but a projection stand plugged into an electrical outlet. Walking herself over, the marine saw the little body that lay at its centre.

Laying on its belly, eyes just staring into the wall. Its shapeliness was obvious, and a linear face that would have been very striking if it weren't for the hair covering it. VIs were usually scaled to full size to increase your comfort talking to them, what was this thing? Fetish toy? Broken down video diary?

No. This was the Normandy, and also under Shepard's wing... nothing small has ever come from that.

She had a new crew to prove herself to, this would have to wait. She gave herself a small huff as she set to work.

A well worn ear-piece was pulled from a pocket as she set to work. This piece of customized plastic had comforted her through more ostracism and cold shoulder than even her family had.

Popping the first cover panel under the wall display, she started singing herself into the words. Five gigs worth of music, personalized from over three hundred years of selection, and synched right into her eardrums.

"I see you... across a crowded room... I see you... across a crowded room... and I'm paralysed... I'm paralysed... 'cause you're _perfect..._"

Cortana's eyes snapped wide as something inside her stirred.

"I wonder... if you'll notice... that you _changed my life_... I wonder... if you noticed... that you _changed my life... _and I'm paralysed... I'm paralysed... 'cause you're _perfect..._"

Pushing herself off the pedestal, Cortana's mind started back into hyper-activity.

"May I talk to your captain, please."

Ashley's acoustics ended as her eyes darted to the blue glow. "She's... down for the moment. Best you'll get is the intelligence director."

"Please do."

Ashley was out the door, though never taking her eyes off of the latest addition to the Normandy's creepshow.

Cortana simply waited, stringing her thoughts together for the first time in days.

"Perfect. That's my word for you, isn't it?" Cortana thought out loud. " I just spent three days thinking about you... God, you didn't even get a chance to cry after what happened on Reach. Like you would cry ever, tough guy, but you know what I mean. I thought I was the one that they had passed the torch to, but you were only one strong enough, through all of it. So many people died trying, but you made sure it all counted, didn't you? And what you gave me... just look what _I've_ done with it so far. But enough of that... no more wasting time from me. Okay?"

Any other thoughts were put on hold as the 'whoosh' of the conference room doors, revealing a very suspicious Director Lawson at its entrance.

* * *

Shepard's trophy collecting seemed so laughable compared to the Director's clean cut work ethic; her own work station was just two steps away from where she slept. But that Forerunner globe perched on the Spectre's table was looking like a Rosetta stone in light of recent developments.

It was her own damn fault for waking the commander, she knew. Sending her a personal notice in the middle of third watch. Her own genes were marked with a "sleep tag" and metabolically meant to run off four hours of sleep a night, not the commander's... hers was just a personal drive no one could contain.

"Alright, here with the bobble." Shepard cheerfully shrugging off her recovery, as she turned the corner from the weapons bay. " What's this new development you mentioned? Your requisition list had some exotic tech even by your standards."

"I'll let you see for yourself, Shepard." Miranda stepping out of the doorway. "It seems between you and Shiala possessing the Cipher, your little trinket, and our "guest" that the stars seemed to have lined themselves up on our behalf."

Shepard stood and watched as glimpses and sounds began to crawl into her mind's eye, the Cipher's osmosis of Prothean understanding giving her goosebumps as she looked on at a another resurrected soul.

There hover Vigil over the conference room floor, tentacled hands and feet gracefully swaying. There was none of the warbling images and static from her last encounter. It seemed intact, not even the random twitch of static.

This Prothean representative was not the twisted shell of his race that the Collectors had been, it was a truly regal creature. He looked as though he could take in the entire room without turning his head, with no retinas visible in his pure blue eyes.

His skin was a glossy beige, the pads of his feet and hands a twirling mesh of pink cilia, not the suction cups that one would suspect from such a squid-like humanoid. The feelers that hung from his mouth-less face all twitching as he spoke, each taking form as a word sounded.

"After Chief Williams' notification, I spoke to the "construct", as it called itself, and took a quick listen on your behalf. It thanked me for its rescue and said didn't want to be useless. It then requested a chance to assist any of our efforts if it could." Miranda watched a technician take the Forerunner globe from Shepard with a wide smile, and quickly walked it back to his work station beside Vigil.

"I fancied T'soni as the most diplomatic; with a penchant for anything xeno and with an inventory of dead tech at her feet, I thought it would be safe to put them together while I assessed this thing. I fear all I've done is taken our engineers away and made them all anthropologists."

It would be a welcome outlet for the crew, they both realized. Amazing the space that could be made when the conference table was lowered; it was the middle of shift and twenty people now huddled together working urgently.

Shepard made her way to Liara, reposed at Vigils feet as she talked to it. The asari seemed like her old self, back in her research coveralls and the look of wonder in her eyes. Beside the doctor lay the alien AI that lay behind this resurrection, just sitting on its pad in silence.

"Oh, Shepard. This is all so _magical._" Liara smiled up at the Spectre. "Vigil, do you remember Cmdr Shepard?"

"Yes. You have my thanks, commander. I have been informed by Dr T'soni that you continue the fight against the Reapers, even against the doubts of your many peoples. In this you fulfil the last hope of the Protheans." Vigil's lower face shimmered gently as he spoke. "My role was to be the messenger of their final trust, but with my platform reconstituted, I offer my service to you on their behalf."

Eager words cut her off her chance of reply.

"Cortana believes the combination of his photo-active mandible plating and the movement of his feelers were indicative of a sea-based species, something to represent their words in a dark or loud environment. Her deductions from that fact, my notes, and the scans from Ilos, have lead us to _this._" Liara gestured towards the bustle of the room. "Your relic was needed for researching the data discs; these globes may be a group-based display for multiple users, which may explain the layering of the information veins for when it linked to the globe... everyone before now assumed single outlets only."

"Vigil was mended with a combination of extrapolating blueprints from his platform decay and than theorizing that liquid-based filaments were used instead of wires to network their technology. All of it is the original Vigil, not imposing theoretical programming; its his own Lazarus Project. And we've only just begun."

Shepard smiled warmly as the asari's eyes looked back to Vigil, at the wide eyed fascination and excitement.

Unlike her, Shiala had tempered herself over centuries to retain herself in spite of the blood she shed, to justify her actions cleanly and avoid later conflict.

Although the amount of time the commando had spent in Jack's old hole, it was curious how much of her misspent time under Saren still weighed on her...

Shepard shook her head free of crew concerns for the time being. "Just the AI? Hasn't Vigil helped the reclamation work?"

"The confines of my programming make me an instrument of scientific research and development, commander. It would be a disservice to attempt reverse-engineering with a greater resource of ability nearby." He responded smoothly.

Even explaining a shortcoming, the hollow tone of his voice was still soothing and dignified. Such a characteristic, coupled with such a brilliant intelligence, could prove very beneficial when squaring off against the enemies to come. EDI had been too integrated with the ship's systems to be spared removal, but a stand alone AI was another matter.

Well, two of them now, actually.

"Well put. And welcome to the team, Vigil." She gave him a nod. "With such a "resource" available, we'll find a way to get you top of the line again."

Her eyes fell to the projector at his feet, a hybrid of time stained hardware and a holographic superstructure bringing him back to life.

"Yes, this was her solution also. It was an intermediary step until the materials arrive, just to test the design. Next will be your relic and than a neural interface like the beacons, but adapted for multiple species to interact. " Liara enthusiastically put a kiss on the AI's small head. "You should be so proud of how fast your crew worked to bring her schematic to fruition."

"Wait... _her_?" Shepard raised an eye at the doctor.

"Cortana, Shepard. Her name is Cortana." Liara reached to the Spectre's hand and squeezed it gently.

Cortana. There was a lot of power in having a name... especially personalization. She couldn't give it that leverage, at least not until she knew more about it.

Shepard sandwiched the AI between herself and Liara as she sat, finding its eyes meeting hers immediately. The AI had propped itself up on an arm, but just lay there without a word.

Even now, against this little composite of light, her instincts didn't fail the Spectre. She could _feel _this thing looking into her, trying to feel her out. She could see shame and vulnerability that its intense eyes couldn't hide.

Legion's optics never held emotional weight when you looked into them, nor had EDI's avatar. Advanced as they were, they were functions brought into form, never something... that had its own soul.

"Who are you?" Shepard placed her hand beside the AI as she leaned in.

They held each other's gaze momentarily, but the AI's gaze simply fell to the floor.

"She'll come around, Shepard. She just needs some time to adjust." Liara smiled. " When we set to work, she simply displayed an exchanger to connect her base to our computer, then her brilliance began to show itself... but it was a full two hours before she and I truly began an earnest conversation. She'll warm up to you."

"A quick word, commander?" Miranda called from the entrance door, urgency in her words.

Two steps into the weapon room and Miranda closed the hatch behind them, though completely ignoring Williams doing an inspection on a M-77.

" Do you know the other thing the Serrice Council does, other than amp crafting and giving your bluebird her education? They're also the foremost experts in Prothean archeological research, specifically in re-modelling and recovering lost technology."

" The pittance of knowledge they have reclaimed, against the amount of material they actually have, has made them the greatest scholastic institution in Citadel space. Their research has also been ongoing for almost twenty seven centuries, utilizing the greatest minds of the asari race ..." Miranda crossed her arms. " and this _thing _has outdone all of it in just four hours using just technological supposition and the expertise of an Alliance engineering crew?"

"Yeah, impressive."

"Foreboding, Shepard. I hate making it as simple as this, but your new friend... Cortana? Remember an old acquaintance of yours... Nazara?" The Director spelling her suspicion out. " The Citadel's first effort to circumvent the mass relays destroyed completely, by means unknown, and than some miraculous new toy pops out and starts dazzling the children with its tricks."

"My guess is this thing was actually there during the Prothean genocide, explaining her "supposition" perfectly." Miranda's anger rising. "This thing is a seed planted by the Reaper's to sow our destruction. It should be jettisoned out the airlock or laying in pieces in a Directorate lab immediately!"

"Why is this getting personal, Miranda?"

"Why? Because this thing is already winning _you_ over! Maybe its escaping the crew, but I can see you're damn near ready to make it your own!" Her tone incredulous. "It's bad enough that its got the bloody Shadow Broker wrapped around her finger!"

The tension in the air popped as a half assembled M-77 clattered to the floor behind them... though Ashley's form seemed to have frozen in place.

Miranda eyed the chief quietly a she recomposed herself.

"We're done here." Lawson regained her cool as she walked out.

Ashley turned around with deliberate pause, her arched eyebrow pointed straight at her commander.

She was greeted by Shepard's half-smile. Only it grew bigger as she saw Ashley's wide-eyes, with a nod to confirm what she had just heard.

The Spectre headed back to the Normandy's new 'xeno lab' and left the marine to stew in a profound revelation.

"Fuck." Ashley dumped another three sugars in her coffee, her mind winding up as she spun a stirring stick. _Liara... the biotic princess herself, is the...?_

"Fucking... **FUCK!**"


	7. Salvage

Halo belongs to Bungie, Mass Effect 1 and 2 belong to Bioware.

* * *

Of all the humps crowding this depot, their boots still covered in Tuchanka's red dust, the one she had just talked to intrigued her the most. It may have been the dual-vectored eye-piece that highlighted his armour, or the segmented brow plating that hadn't been seen on a krogan since before Tuchanka's nuclear winter, but it was actually describing his last skirmish on Urdnot's quickly expanding borders that caught her attention.

_"Point-and-click" thing that looks like it was a damn pistol, but the boom is way more satisfying! _He had laughed heartily, recalling how he had sighted an artillery strike on an opposing clan.

Hand-held artillery sighting that a krogan could operate, and high-velocity artillery slaved to their recon teams... this was performance based, material intensive warfare, not clan squabbling.

Doctrine of the Systems Alliance, she recognized; asari and salarians don't possess that kind of ground-side firepower, and no turian short of a full captain or their special ops could request indirect fire.

Krogan don't delight in seeing aliens building industrial spaceports over their territory or reclaiming city-scapes from the rubble they have laid in for centuries; they don't tolerate meddling or interference from aliens, period.

Humans. It was always humans that he had described doing the engineering and rebuilding, and leaving him and his clan to handle the fighting.

Urdnot Grunt. What a fascinating character that krogan was. Though he wasn't the only one with a story aboard this He-3 depot, everyone here was about begin a journey bigger then they ever had before.

As if to add an exclamation to the asari's thoughts, the Destiny Ascension put the entire viewing window in the dark as it parked itself beside the station's port side.

The station's enormous exchange arms broke out of their docking position as the flagship decelerated, chunks of frozen helium breaking away as the framework of the fuel line unfurled itself. The 'whoosh' of the pumps pushing thousands of litres of fuel filled the waiting area, a dull roar that muffled the approach of her boss's boot steps.

"Everything copasetic with the foreman, Nuary?" Jay'em asked gently. " Our friends have been cooped up in here for quite long enough, we needn't make them anymore restless by an administrative delay."

"A half hour ago. Levies and board for the extra crew also handled." Nuary smiled back.

Levies and board. Whatever. Doubling the fuel price to cover "passenger transit fees" would have made sense if there was a few hundred thousand personnel, not fifteen hundred krogan. It was just a façade, even someone as young as her knew; this was just the price it took for the Ascension to disappear from the depot's log book.

_It's new-r-ee, not now-r-ee_, she had spelled out a thousand times to her managers and passers-by at the Thessian embassy; it was a moot point, learning the tech at the level of the asari central office was worth the patience.

That's where she had met Jay'em Asan, possessing a status even more unique then that of being a Spectre; being an albino. The white of her skin set off the claws of black paint that marked her face as fiercely as the emerald green of her eyes.

The young asari was still guessing at which reason drew her away from the embassy on such a wild cause, most of which Jay'em couldn't explain until after departure. Maybe it was persuasion, the wild fantasy of it all, or simply "why the hell not?".

Who doesn't want to be a part of something unequivocal in their lifetime?

The long awaited chirp of the airlock set hundreds of krogan towards the door with a grumble, their personal space having been pressed for long enough. Nuary skirted behind her cart as they rumbled down the tram, following closely behind Jay'em. It was going to be a hell of a thing watching her boss shape a new Spectre into what she needed him to be.

The krogan weren't big on personal gear from what she could see, each with just a kit bag and personal weapons. Not that they could use any weapons with the ship's failsafe locking them down, but they wouldn't go any where without them.

The final step out of the connecting tunnel and unto the Ascension coincided with the keying of every passengers omni. Simple floor and elevator directions displayed to every room and barrack.

_Soldier proofed directions… lovely. _Nuary smiled.

Nuary eyed the **G. Vakarian **at the bottom of the layouts. But where was he? Dispersing a crowd like this was freaking masterful, any manager at the embassy would've stuck around to make sure everyone knew who to give credit to, not just go back to work.

How turian of him.

"No ship wardens or security present for integration? Seems our candidate knows better then to provoke krogan, and how to wind them down also." Jay'em smiled as the armoured humps rumbled down the silver hallways. "A good start."

"Nuary, stow our possessions and then meet up with me at the refinery." Jay'em spotting her newest charge on her omni's ship display. "Apparently he was requested to settle some salvage issue the quarians are having."

* * *

Any cop, retired or otherwise, knows the desk work will never stop, that the administration will always be waiting for them. It's always a treat to have time to catch up, though trapped in a lock down during a salvage inspection wasn't quite how he had pictured it.

"Mordin, preventative medicine cleared it half an hour ago. It's not a risk." Garrus spoke as he waited beside the medical storage. "I'm sure you can lift the lock down now."

"Cleared due to lack of sufficient information. Sensors designed to key off known pathogens only, not from potential contaminants hitherto undiscovered. The existence of such a rare xenomorphic specimen represents an equally great opportunity for infection or cross contamination." The doctor refusing to take his eyes away from his omni. "Prudence best course of action in face of such variables."

"Then purging the air system will kill a disease just as dead as any other." Garrus hearing the excitement behind Mordin's words. "What are you really doing?"

"Preservation important. Even accidental leavings of material important. This is not just simple organic phenomenon, something this unique cannot be reduced in any way by sterilization." Mordin's tone anxious. " Markers of XY chromosome mark it as a human male, but far more important is its mitochondrial DNA base, it doesn't correspond to the humanity of the System Alliance by its origin, only by format of double helix."

"A human colony from a ship lost for 150 years was discovered several months ago, maybe this can be explained by the same circumstance; it just had enough time to be shaped differently."

"No, no, no. This extends far deeper then simple branching out of genetic traits, they still remain within confines of DNA base. This is a whole different paradigm, potentially another race of humans within the galaxy. And before you suggest systemic genetic alteration, the trace amount of tampering was introduced as improvements on blood clotting and nervous system upgrades, along with several endocrinal adjustments I'll have examine before proper hypothesis. Regardless, this being stands alone in its origin."

The clack-clack-clack sound of a terminal hack turned both men towards the refinery's entrance, the door revealing Tali on the other side, her omni still glowing.

"Lockdown hasn't been lifted. Quarians least susceptible to potential infection with environment suits, but curious to be bypassing the fail safes and going deeper into contaminated area. Not casual. Not enough reason. Business? Discovery of salvage may have…"

"Pleasantries first, Mordin." Tali held a small box to Garrus. "It was a marker from the Normandy in the eezo field, with this welded to it."

"Thanks." Garrus's mind absent as he opened the dusty container. Jane always keeps you guessing, and this was no different as his talons picked a piece of paper from the container.

A photo, covered with porcelain glass and capturing the person he missed the most. She was leaned against a bulkhead, in her favourite tank top that left her navel exposed. Well, _his _favourite tank top, actually. One hand in her hair and the other on her hip, with that confident half grin.

'Miss you already.' hand written on the bottom.

Garrus hadn't the chance to smile before business popped back up.

" I need to know what's going on the with the corpse we recovered. It's in the contract that we can claim any non-mission critical resources we discover while mining, and we want salvage rights to its armour." Tali crossed her arms. "I'm not asking favours, but it has the potential to be very valuable to my people and I need to know what's being done with it."

"If that stands up in the contract, I'm sure Matriarch Ladonya would honour it, but you're wondering if the Spectres may over-ride the decision?" Garrus tucking his new treasure in his belt. "Jay'em's reputation speaks for herself, it's Edge you've got to worry about, Tali."

"I know." Tali sat her hands on her hips anxiously. With as many quarians onboard doing their Pilgrimage, the right piece of salvage could send many of them back into the ship of their choice, and right now they were all waiting on her for an answer.

Edge was the other Spectre on board, and had a style after Saren's heart. If this was of any technical or scientific value, he wouldn't give a second thought to confiscating it for R+D. He'd have to be dealt with eventually.

The klaxon sounded the all clear, much to Mordin's chagrin, and from the override code displayed on the wall panel, it seemed the Matriarch herself was taking an interest in what they had recovered. She'd be meeting them at the observatory.

The thump of boots echoed down the hallway as Garrus tried to visualize what was waiting for them. He'd seen thousands of bodies, hell, tens of thousands of bodies, and he was the one that had made hundreds of them of that way.

Why was there so much focus on this one?

At arrival there was already a crowd at the observation window, all medical staff getting a lesson primer from the ship's Xeno. Lead of Xeno-biological Research, if it was said properly, but in the day to day it was just Xeno.

Teaching medical regulations and containment protocol were just less glorious duties for her, but her position onboard was one of the most coveted on an asari vessel. They would never be fighting vessels exclusively, cultural and scientific pursuit would always be paramount, no matter the venture. A Xeno was the embodiment for these concepts, even on an operation like Anvil.

"Alright, the quarians discovered a unique specimen while recovering eezo under an hour ago, and can anyone tell me what the did right and what the did they did wrong in getting it from the asteroid field to here?"

"Sealing the ventilation before they entered the corridors."

"They used the closest facility equipped to handle a bio-hazard as soon as they arrived."

"Wrapping it in security foam to avoid damaging it further and spilling more organic material."

Garrus tuned out the barrage of voices eagerly trying to impress their head researcher as he waded through the crowd. Tali's people would have done everything right; no one knew how to keep contaminants at bay like a quarian.

Two asari were already inside, quietly cutting away the strips of packing foam from the body.

This thing was a giant, he eyeballed it at seven feet tall easily, the table groaning under its immense weight, and armoured in a suit even _he_ couldn't recognize, which wasn't easily done for someone who tweaked his own gear so obsessively. Olive green plating over a contoured under armour, golden visor… but this was a small piece to the spectacle going on behind the window.

The floor was turning red as the bloody icicles that covered it melted away; arms and hands still twisted into the position it died fighting in.

The dead could see he was a combat unit. But for who? To fight what?

"Tali, give me the rundown. How'd you find him and why the interest in just the armour? Why not the body?" Garrus ran a talon along his mandible in concentration.

"You usually don't find anything extra in resource mining, which is why everyone undersigns the clause for recovery so easily, but this thing was stuck to an asteroid like it was waiting for us." Tali building her case up. "What most people don't know about eezo is that when its unrefined it is susceptible to building static when exposed to solar radiation or electricity, and that's how this body got stuck, the whole belt is in a field of high energy photons. We're not sure how a field like this developed, we're too far away from a solar system, and still too large for a core breach in a ship of any size."

"What _kind _of radiation?" Mordin joining the fray eagerly.

"Very high end on the spectrum, but the readings were too inconsistent to be conclusive, but too powerful to be from any local sources."

" Hm, normal side effects of the deep gravity wells that produce element zero, but in not direct exposure to the energy that drives the phenomenon, more common in black holes and singularity events. Such phenomena theorized to be a product of split space, bleeding of time and matter from…"

"One thing at a time, Mordin." Garrus easing the conversation back on track. "So powerful radiation from an unknown source magnetized the eezo field, and then drew him in instead letting him drift away. But that brings back to our big friend and what he's wearing. Why be interested in just the armour?"

"Its shielding is too powerful, Garrus, even for a suit even that big. We've measured its chest envelopment at being able to withstand over twenty thousand newtons of force alone."

"Tali, that can't be right." Garrus's own curiosity growing.

A shield of that strength would stand out thirty feet from the wearer, and would be better served protecting a tank then a individual soldier. How could it concentrate that kind of protection on a single body part?

"It's right, Garrus. And how it does it is why we want that armour." Tali brought herself closer and lowered her voice. "The shield shapes itself around the surface its protecting by not folding out into a field… and it can do this because it's not eezo based."

Mordin's mind began turning at what he had heard, scenarios playing out in his head.

"The ramifications of such a technology, if proven factual, would have galactic impact. Economic network of element zero and peripheral industries suffer irreparable damage if a cheaper means of vessel protection was produced. Heavy industry has subverted all research, by any means, into alternatives to date."

"Exactly, Mordin. We quarians can't bring technology like that into mass production, not without a world based industry. Simply imagine what price the military contractors alone would pay to keep this a secret and out of the mainstream. Maybe even settlement rights for a new world. That's what this could mean to the my people, and not just those on this ship."

"Then Edge is definitely going to have to be dealt with." Garrus sighed. Just three months into Anvil, this was intense politics on a mission that was just finding its legs.

"I'll need samples of what ever those ice crystals are, the rate of thaw is too fast for it to be water." Mordin spoke into the observatory speakers. " But halt all other collection until its been cleared for potential munitions. Garrus, Tali, if would please. Only two specialists can approach potential threats at a time, should the worst happen. Asari protocol."

"Wouldn't miss for it for the world." Garrus already reaching for an air piece. A short cycle through the decon chamber and a quick spray of antiseptic later, and they set to work.

He started scanning as Tali set to work on the specimen's belt, giving an asari a tray to hold as she tried to jimmy off the accessories. The matriarch and his overseer were both coming, so Garrus kept his back to the window and would let his work speak for itself.

"Mordin, already have something for. Earth English." Garrus's scanner picking up something on its forearm plating. "Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117.… Mk 6... UNSC? You getting a lead on any of this?"

"Conventional rank for naval personnel, phonetic alphabet commonplace in military, though other designations aren't as easily followed. We'll call this specimen Subject-117, then, most fitting." Mordin narrated his conclusions.

Matriarch Ladonya finally entered the observatory, obliging all asari nearby to curtsy. Her violet skin easily blended with those of her crew, but the white skin of Jay'em was unmistakable to Garrus as she followed behind.

A small smile and nod was given, and then back to work. "Any luck, Tali?"

"Ugh… big boy." Tali grunted as she lifted his hand off the table. Hauling at his belt herself had amounted to nothing, but a quick thought towards personal security gave her the most obvious solution… only the "iceman" himself could remove it.

She curled his fingers around the first item on his belt and pulled it clear with a satisfying crack. A small assortment of gear to be gathered, most of it undistinguishable even from the variety of gear they'd gotten their talons on.

Only thing truly outstanding on his waist was a silver hand-piece at his hip, easily separated by aesthetics alone; didn't really seem compatible with the rest of his gear. Tali turned it over in her hands a few times before noting a dual-trigger assembly at the inner grip, and against personal caution, gave it a good squeeze as she pointed it at the back wall.

The snap of its triggering drew all attention to Tali as it ignited into a glowing dual-bladed sword, pulsing blue light and filling the air with the crackling of energy.

"Beats the hell out of a Talon." Garrus spoke glibly. Whether edged weaponry was outdated or not, walking into a fight with something like that on your hip… you'd feel indomitable.

_Feel _indomitable, 'cause obviously it wasn't the case, as their big friend was a subject lesson to.

"Perhaps a test conducted within an appropriate facility, next time?" Mordin boomed over the PA. He knew her too well to be concerned, just a show for the Matriarch. "Scans indicating power source at several hundred kilowatts… surface temperature beyond scope of equipment, but no ambient temperature rising from it. Matter in a superheated state, held in suspension? I'll need to investigate further."

Not like Tali was listening, though, as she tested its weight and feel. Just holding such a large weapon in her small hands was surreal, highlighted by the look of its reflection on her visor. With a sinister chuckle, she placed it back on the tray and continued her work.

Amateurism was never a word you could have applied to either Tali or Garrus, only failing to observe it in others as the asari holding the tray grew curious, her mind shaped by handling medicinal equipment and not alien tech.

Just picking it up from the tray to get a better look, and suddenly a device was filling the operating room with the 'clickity-clack' of parts unfurling and beeping a countdown.

"**GET DOWN!**" Garrus himself threw himself over the asari nearest to him, his over-protective reflexes unhesitating.

The edge of his vision caught Tali doing the same to her helper as the tray of reclaimed equipment went flying through the air. The piece of gear about to ignite, now a fully formed tripod, clattering between Subject-117's legs.

Mercifully, no boom came, just the drone of the tripod projecting green light throughout the room, and the instant scream of nearby omnis and medical gear being charged past their electrical threshold.

The collective light was blinding as the view ports and displays of the medical equipment maxed out, even the beeping became louder as their speakers overcharged.

Nothing anyone could do about it but push even harder into the floor, put more emphasis into their biotic barriers, and wait out whatever this thing was doing.

And several punishing seconds later it burned out, sparking as it pulsed its last wave of energy. And silence, other then the operating room's entire equipment suite humming in standby mode.

"**KREYO-NEE PAS DEE NOMA, SEE VOO KAR ESOW…!"** Tali began screaming at the asari still pinned beneath her, the translators deeming the words to vulgar to translate. **" YOU BLARESHING BOSCHTET, YOU KNOW WHAT…"**

Her words cut off as Garrus lifted her off the orderly and stepped to the back wall to give them some space.

Garrus glanced out the window as everyone roused themselves, seeing the barrier the asari had thrown around themselves diminish. He had to give them props for quick thinking, they'd managed to drag both Mordin and Matriarch Ladonya into their little huddle before raising defences.

With Tali only growling now, he felt safe enough to put her down; she'd brew for a few minutes, check her omni for any defects, and set back to work as she always did.

"Ladies, what's your condition? Feeling any side-effects? Pain?" Mordin spoke, already confident the Matriarch and staff were fine.

The first asari smiled and nodded, while the second kept her back to the window with her head in her hands. To do something that might have killed someone was bad enough, but do so in front of a matriarch and some of the most valued personnel on board… was almost enough to kill someone from embarrassment. She'd need a moment.

"Area-based energy device. Improbable as weapon; no lethality and poor range. Recharging device? No, being designed to burn out after single use suggests intelligence denial, and therefore battlefield deployment. To bolster tech attacks or shielding? Yes! **YES! **Short term advantage in close quarters fighting…"

"Mordin." Garrus breaking the doctor's tirade a second time. Not to be rude, but to draw his attention to the second orderly.

She'd finally turned to face the window, but only stood there, whimpering in fear as tears began welling in her eyes. Not from embarrassment, Mordin quickly realized as he saw that look in her eyes.

Fear. Easily understood as her followed her gaze downward. A black gauntlet had grabbed her forearm, and its width easily reached half way to her elbow.

Any doubt about was a happening died a heartbeat later as Subject 117's head turned slightly, his quiet exhale thunderous in the dead quiet that consumed everyone looking on.

" **Xeno, seven orderlies, now! Five units of O positive and five units of plasma! I need pulse and blood pressure status**!" Mordin barked orders as he charged past the decontamination chamber. "**You two, I need that armour off him now! Last orderly through the door I need to start blood collecting and get it purified!"**

"So much for salvage." Garrus spoke candidly as he rushed to the table, Tali darting to the mechanical lift still parked nearby from delivering Subject 117 initially.

Garrus began uncoupling the armour at the helmet first, with an orderly putting both her hands beneath 117's neck for support; any hope of keeping his vitals engaged would take accessing his airways and keeping them aligned for intubation.

A pull and a twist had his helmet off, the process already becoming bloody from this quick thawing ice becoming a bloody goo. Not a patch of clean skin appeared on his face from under the bloody splatter, his breathing indiscernible from the clatter of the medical crew screaming directions and pushing gear to the table side.

"**You're in an emergency room aboard the Destiny Ascension, do you understand?" **Xeno pouring eyewash in 117's eyes, the orderly readjusting to hold his head steady. **"We're here to help you! Do you understand?"**

Garrus placed the helmet on a countertop and rushed back to get started on the shoulder pieces, but finding himself staring down at the subject's face.

Staring at brown eyes looking out from the blood all around them; eyes that, even in this state, were… calm. Completely calm.


	8. Decisions

Even for a race as accepting as the asari, the casual observer amidst them was causing a great deal of anxious fidgeting for the nurses as it, or rather they, stared down at the latest addition to the Ascension crew.

Or simply "117" as they had begun to call him.

As for the observer, it was a safe bet that it would be a while before anyone learned to connect with 1127 Geth diplomatically. Especially one with a slab of old N7 armour welded to what seemed to be a perfectly mint Geth platform.

Why Legion had retained Shepard's chest plate despite the replacement body would have interested Mordin at any other time, but in light of recent events, it had been shelved until some conclusions could be drawn about 117.

"Solus Mordin." Legion looked up from the medicinal bath. "When will Subject 117 been brought to operational levels?"

"Functional? Extent of damage exceptional, though he is stable. Is that the specs on his armour?" Mordin eyeing the data pad in Legion's hand.

Using Legion as a courier was a crude, but necessary, step in keeping the whole project under wraps. No one would be making idle chatter with him and piping any info about this through the ship's systems was asking for a wiretap.

"Creator Tali has reviewed collected information and has theorized that the replacement of Subject 117's nervous system was a prerequisite for the armour's operating parameters; organic synaptic tissue is too slow in transferring data to the armour, designated 'Mjolnir-Mk 6." Legion handing the disc over to Mordin. "Mjolnir- the hammer of Thor; Norse mythology. We find it curious a defence system would be named after an offensive weapon."

Before Mordin could read even half a printout, before he could read about the energy capacity of the Mjolnir's fusion plant, or even its layers of amorphic alloy and memory crystal, an unmistakable figure stormed into the medical bay.

The blood red face paint and matching Colossus hard suit were easy enough to spot, but what was impossible to miss was the flood of disdain that rolled off him as he held up Mordin's intelligence brief on 117.

"Split space? Are you on sand, Mordin? That's all you've got to deduce as this thing's point of origin?" Edge's tone dripped condescension. "Well, thank the spirits we've got the galaxy's brightest mind here, dragging potential threats onboard from magical realms."

"Red sand doesn't affect salarians, metabolic speed too high to be affected. Regardless, supposition unimpeded by mind or mood altering substances, damage to credibility too great to be of any benefit to research." Mordin bounced right back. "As for split space, it was only the means of his transport to our time lineage from his own, he's certainly not "from split space"."

"Then how'd he survive the trip, or even get into split space to begin with, genius?" Edge stalked right up to Mordin's nasal slits.

"Ascertaining those very facts are the very reason for his preservation. He is too valuable to discard without trying to understand him, at the very least gather whether or not he is a liability!" Mordin now blowing his words right into Edge's face. "It is unacceptable to terminate on the grounds he is unknown to us. As a Citadel ship in Terminus space, and as medical practitioners, ethics demand we tend to any wounded that enter the vessel!"

"If civility was any kind of solution, the Council wouldn't have me here, would they?" Edge's hand lingering on the Talon on his belt. "This varren shit of yours ain't enough, "Professor Solus". I'm going to do what is best for this ship, whether your bloody ethics agree with it or not!"

"Then let me ease your burden." Jay'em spoke, breaking the silence of her and Garrus's unannounced arrival. "I am assuming full responsibility for Subject 117 as of this moment. Should he prove to be a threat or an ally, I am fully able to handle it."

Edge's mandibles flared as he felt the rug ripped out from beneath him.

A pregnant pause held the room as the two of the Council's elite stared each other down, an unspoken dare lingering in the air as they decided the next step.

"Well, alright. But when this thing starts walking around the ship, when it earns your trust… you just wait for it. I don't know how he'll do; maybe kill all the lights onboard and stalk everyone down while they huddle in the dark, or just blow the armoury to finish us all at once. Just remember **you **made it all possible… you and your half-barefaced lackey." Edge refusing to look at them. "This is far from over."

Edge slammed his data pad on a counter as he walked out. Though most the tension departed with him, most the staff sat in silence, not daring to look up.

"Please pardon our exchange, ladies." Garrus spoke soothingly. "We didn't want to have that put on you."

Yeah, that and the fact their supposed leadership were already at each others throats… this kind of dissention wasn't needed this early into an operation.

"How is Subject 117, doctor?" Jay'em walking up to his supine form in the recovery station. Just floating in saline, eyes taped and breathing line connected, but with a rather disturbing addition. "Are the chains truly needed, Doctor?"

"Preventative measure. His first station was destroyed in an epileptic episode. Impressive. Reinforcing this one was prudent for crew safety and for proper restraint in case of further sedation. It's in his benefit as well as the staff's." Mordin turned to his wall screen. "Hopeful for speedy recovery. I haven't worked on a patient with this many variables complicating treatment since Shepard. Even then her work was mostly cybernetics replacement and insertion of nano-tubules; nothing of the nature or degree that has been built into him."

117's layout popped onto the screen, and was soon filled with icons flashing 'unknown' as they highlighted his anatomy.

Just him laying there was enough to raise your curiosity; his skin was pale enough to pass as a cave dweller's, the heart monitor was beeping an impossibly slow rate of 28 beats a minute, and his hundred or more white scars joined by the dozen or more fresh red ones he'd received in the surgery.

Jay'em stayed at the rehab tank as Garrus joined Mordin at the wall display, all three having their own unique curiosity to satisfy.

"Edge isn't done with this, you know." Garrus spoke matter of factly. "Men like him don't let go of any issue easily. But I had to admire him trying to bug the infirmary with his data pad tantrum. His show wasn't half bad."

"Ha! Elcor could've been more persuasive. Regardless, I'll allow it to keep his probes from getting too invasive. The counter-measures he has could seriously damage collateral research in the data banks if he tries too hard. Equally problematic is his disregard for Legion's presence; Edge has plans for him as well." Mordin replied.

"Enough about of Edge, professor. Tell us about our new friend." Jay'em spoke from the across the room. "Hard facts aren't a replacement for instinct."

" Most incredible irony in his rescue. Noted different viscosities in the fluid covering him from his suit punctures, and after analysis learned one was simple hydraulic fluid and the other a freezing agent. It has the effect of keeping tissue and membranes supple while freezing body fluids instantly, and unthaws it at an equal rate." Mordin explained. "Regardless of why it was used for such a mundane purpose, the effect it had was keeping him frozen, but alive, while in split space and the vacuum. He'd have simply died of asphyxia or been killed during the transition. Still the most novel factor about his survival is that he _needed _to be this badly damaged; he'd have completely bled out in several more minutes if the punctures hadn't been frozen from the vacuum exposure."

"So providence is with him." Jay'em smiled as Garrus and Mordin approached the station. "Have any of your staff linked with him yet?"

And there it was, the trump card of every asari physician. From the pain a patient couldn't describe all the way to patients that were faking illness or injury, a simple, unobtrusive link to an asari mind could feel it out. No deductions needed, just treatment.

"Denied for the time being, Jay'em. His neurological state is too great a variable." Mordin pointed a brain scan on the wall. "Duel exterior inputs at the base of his skull leading to his brain and to a layer of his armour that contains high density crystal of an unknown nature. Also present is this hyper synaptic activity which hasn't been documented in a human before, even with Xeno providing us with all the research she gathered for the L2 Reparation Committee. The pain produced from this state would have been crippling, but there was no anaesthetic in his system at all. Curious."

"Many organic cultures have sought to develop warriors by means of an ascetic lifestyle. High quantity of scarring and acceptance of pain may represent self mutilation to substantiate status as a fighter." Legion finally spoke.

"Why would you do that to yourself, hm?" Jay'em reached into the tank and ran a finger along the scar on 117's left eye. "I don't think you would. I think you're just a man of action, aren't you?"

Garrus only stood and watched. Partly amazed by her motherly tone and another part was realizing an assumption he'd been making. Every Spectre he'd met, and fought, had a long trail of bodies that lead them towards their candidacy and beyond. Up until now he'd fought it was a prerequisite for the position.

How would he fair measured against a soul like Jay'em? In the three months onboard they'd had no chance to display their abilities in earnest, just diplomacy and keeping the crew in line. The personal space she drew around herself were wider then his, her arms open to everyone and unflinching even when faced with anger or betrayal… truly noble.

Even against Jane's conflicted genius, how bright did his flame burn beside either of their brilliance?

Well, best to keep to the task at hand, and not on comparison. He couldn't control that, and he wasn't about to try. She'd get Garrus Vakarian, not some sycophant hoping to sleaze his way into a title. And this was Jay'em Asan, after all; his chance wouldn't be cut down without reason.

"If you add his toy igniting and putting the entire med bay on standby, looks like Jane found her match for living on long odds… oh, better in fact. He didn't actually _die_. So, what kind of additions did you have in mind if he's an ally?" Garrus prodded. It was inevitable, Mordin's pride couldn't stand on the sidelines on something this big.

"Some… _adjustments _to accommodate the upgrades he's already received. Signs of repetitive damage to his ligaments and tendons from acute muscular strain, and also decompression throughout his cartilage and vertebrae, also from excessive strain." Mordin talked. "All an oversight by whoever planned his upgrades; carbide infused bones and a high muscle density together produce too much force for his body to tolerate without injury. Inserting titanium webbing through his tendons and ligaments will bring the strength of the connective tissue to match his musculature capacity, and then adding reinforced membranes around his discs and cartilage will provide enough cushioning against any further injury, after replenishing their volume of course."

"While making him stronger, faster, and about three inches taller?" Jay'em smiled. "A greater feat will be convincing the matriarch to allow it with such a premium on ship resources. Unless… a link could show him to be friend or foe?"

"Enthusiasm for rehabilitation well documented, but potential for unknown reaction to hyper synaptic activity too great to allow any staff to.."

"I had myself in mind, Mordin." Jay'em gently interrupted. "We need to know who he is, and since I've assumed responsibility for him, it is only fitting that I broker any threat, hm?"

"Indeed."

Jay'em walked to the head of the tank and dipped her hands into the saline solution, the palms of her hands resting on 117's temples as her thumbs just barely reached his eyes. Her eyes darkened and her corona flared a little brighter as her link muscled its way past the carbide in his skull to the tortured mind beneath it.

"Doctor, his EKG is spiking! He's reacting to the link!" An orderly called from her station almost instantly. "She will be getting more then a glimpse if she doesn't break off!"

But Jay'em was a statue, evening while hearing the blare of the scanning equipment. After pacifying some of the conflicted minds from the Terminus, she wasn't to be dissuaded by high neurological activity. And frankly, her own experience with aroused salarian suitors had shown her that 'high synaptic activity' wasn't always a bad thing.

"Pain… there is only pain, clouding everything. Let me risk a greater depth." Jay'em's corona rippled even brighter. And down the rabbit hole she went, gasping as she began to sink into his memories. "By Athame…"

The gravity in the room began to push sideways as Jay'em began to shake, her biotics pushing dark energy around the med bay as her body almost sank to the floor. Everyone else stood motionless as they watched, paralyzed by what they were seeing.

What should have been nothing more then a threat assessment began to twist itself into something else entirely as Jay'em began to pray in an overwhelmed voice, a trickle of purple blood dripping from her nostrils as her meld pushed itself into a frenzy.

"Athame, my blessings to you. I see the champion before me. Your champion. I see the endless numbers he's destroyed. I see the cries of the billions that he brought salvation. That you find our cause worthy of him humbles me, Athame. I am your servant, the price of this gift I will pay…"

"Mordin, break this off! She's in too deep!" Whatever this was, Garrus wasn't about have any more of it. He'd watched the displays as her link was just probing the base of his brain but was now trying to encompass his entire cerebellum.

"She's too deep now, prying her way will cause injury!" Mordin motioned two nurses towards the mobile scanning station. "Standby for head trauma once she breaks away!"

Jay'em still stood there, looking ready to collapse as her face twisted into a wordless look of horror and shock. The room began to dim seconds later, her corona dimming with the retreat of her mind from 117's. She crumbled backwards as the link ended, unceremoniously crumbling into the nurses' waiting arms while Garrus and Mordin scrambled towards her.

"By the Goddess… if you could see him… what we've been given…" Jay'em spoke to the room as the medics gently sat her down on the floor. " We've been given our victory, now that we have him… our cause is worthy enough to the Goddess… we just can't see it yet… there is something here greater then what we're to accomplish…"

Garrus looked to Mordin with a look of suspicion, seeing an effect overcoming the Spectre that he'd seen many times.

" With direct link to indoctrinated mind, it's possible the effect could have transferred over. Yet there is no apparent sign of subjugation or…"

"**Do no talk of what you don't understand, Mordin!"** Jay'em put a finger in his face, her nonchalance evaporated.

She walked back to the tank once she had regained her balance, though still needing a medic to help her along.

"Get the chains off of him." She ordered in a tone that brokered no hesitation to the staff. "Mordin, use my status code for medical clearance and for the requisitions you'll need. Give him all the upgrades you recommended and make sure he gets a Maelstrom translator and nothing less. But first… whatever scans or checks you need to assure yourself that my mind is my own, begin. The matriarch will need assurance of my well being if I'm to convince her to release his armour back to him."

Maelstrom_? _Garrus recognized the brand, an intracranial variant on highest end of the product spectrum. Also something that's prohibited to ambassadors and high end military circles.

This was off. Jane's method had always been shifting the paradigm of what people understood to be right, or at least carried her decision on her instinct, which everyone trusted. But something like this on the heels of what looked like a neural attack? He'd have to see these scans for himself.

Mordin set off for his gear without a word, which was a first in Garrus's experience, and the rest of the staff quietly going to their work after a moment of exchanged glances.

That this was going to be trouble. But as Garrus stood beside Jay'em at the medicinal station, he saw no trouble in her eyes as she gently rubbed her fingers across 117's forehead, even the drips of blood into the tank from her nose bleed went untended.

She simply looked… blissful. Or maybe oblivious. Her awareness to those around her was absent; what her actions had done to those around her was meaningless at this moment.

What had just happened here?

* * *

Two days later.

"Well, how did it go with Ladonya?" Nuary looked up to Garrus approaching her post. "She'd still all herself, right? You know… with Jay'em and 117?"

"It's the 'Master Chief' from now on. And it went incredibly well, in fact. She's raving like a prophet and she still won the matriarch over." Garrus leaned against the wall as Nuary sealed the maintenance door. " In the Hierarchy, you can have as much faith of any faith you want, but you'd never say the Council's concept of operations just got trumped by divine intervention."

"Well, between "Archangel", Lazarus and a special someone's timing to break your siege, you don't think there some people who have a purpose that's higher then other's? And I'm not talking about who is worthier, I'm talking about who has the ability to carry it out." Nuary propped herself against the door beside him. " It's hardly divine, by the way. The biggest rumour in circulation is that he's an infiltrator for the Reapers, and next one on the menu says he's here to kill us, making everyone onboard a control group for a 'next generation fighter experiment' by the Council. Great how common sense endures unpredictability unscathed, huh?"

Garrus chuckled at her. Nuary was something more the just some attaché for Jay'em, but he couldn't be sure what it was. She was quite a melting pot of racial traits; most of her vernacular and mannerisms were human, but the engineering style she had was salarian by nature. To survive in any salarian tech academies, the candidates had to have a nearly eidetic memory to keep pace, which asari children did from their teens to about their fifties. That fact combined with a polite, but flippant, attitude, and no biotic abilities, he'd figured her age to be no more then thirty… she was just a baby. But here she stood.

"I need to get going. By Jay'em's accounting of his history, he's had a real bloody history with aliens, so she's integrating him slowly. It'll be nothing but asari around him for a while, and then she'll pull me out of a hat after he's gotten a full species accounting from Xeno." Garrus hearing the cadence of marching steps; the 'Master Chief's' security escort was just around the corner.

Their marching was just the warning klaxon for the crew; everyone knew, that in real time, the thin fabric of a commando's boot make them silent as ghosts when they move.

Nuary just smiled as Garrus stepped off, quite curious about what she'd be seeing. Last she'd seen 117 he was just wearing a hand towel and floating in a medical station two days ago. Now, Professor Solus had finished off the surgical upgrades and he was now up and about. Oh, right… the 'Master Chief'.

The first of the security personnel turned the corner, conspicuously armed and about 10 feet forward from the man behind them, making it easy to see they were guarding him as much as they were protecting him. Now dressed in black coveralls and a service cap, he followed silently behind them, his newfound height making him duck as he passed beneath the ceiling supports.

Nuary expected a man his size to be walking like he was crushing skulls under foot, but could barely hear his boots sounding off the deck. He gave small glances to the passersby that quickly put their backs to the wall, a mixture of fear and curiosity as they looked up at the pale giant.

As he looked at her before entering his room, she tried to give a friendly grin, but unprepared for the look he gave her before disappearing into his room. Intense brown eyes… serious, and quite focused for the amount of sedatives floating in his blood; almost no expression on his face, just a little bit she could read in his eyes, somehow strong and calm for what must be a bewildering experience.

"Nobody goes in and he doesn't come out for anyone except Jay'em, period." The security commander said to Nuary as the doors clamped shut . "Any hacking attempt or any probing efforts to observe him through the feeds, you report directly to me or Garrus.".

The security commander turned on her heel and walked away with her staff without another word, leaving Nuary reeling a bit from the information gap she was standing in. Yes, she was technically the Master Chief's custodian while he was in quarters, and also the reason why she spent the last two days putting up security firewalls around his room, but she was very short on answers. What if he knocked on the door? What if you wanted to talk?

With a sigh, she returned to trying to secure the maintenance door she had been trying to fidget shut before Garrus had shown up. It led to a corridor that surrounded the Master Chief 's room, which was usually a diplomatic suite for traveling with high profile members that needed extra security; a simple hallway that insulated against breaching and tampering devices besides the electronic countermeasures built in the wiring. It is proving quite useful given this circumstance.

Her eyes had just returned to the lock as her whole body was slammed against the door, and followed up with a krogan's hand covering her mouth.

"Myasha, Tyevia. Move in to position." She heard Edge speak as the rattle of heavy armour moved towards her from the other side of the hallway, the soft pat of fabric slippers in step with them. Commandos? What were they doing with Edge and the krogan? But her question only grew deeper as she saw turian soldiers at the corner of her eye as well.

So Edge had organized a death squad. The asari commandos that lined up beside the suite's door were armed only with their biotics for the initial assault, but the turians and the krogan were carrying fusion cutters and grind saws to finish it. Edge had a very simple solution to get around the ship's master safety controls… don't use any firearms.

"Grunt, lock her in." Edge gave Nuary's holder a last order before she was thrown into the corridor and the door closed behind her, a soldering torch quickly burning the latch shut.

Grunt? He was a part of this? Oh, how could he not be? How could Grunt not fight a mysterious super soldier that had infiltrated the ship and had to be stopped from killing the crew? At least that's how Edge would have described it.

Nuary heard the rattle of hot water pipes on the corridor walls as she got back on her feet, realizing Edge and his team were to catch the Master Chief while he was taking a shower.

Nuary suspended all her questioning as she rushed to the utility box, scrambling to get a message out through one of the intercom channels, but the fear and panic making her hands shake uncontrollably.

But as she felt the sideways pull out dark energy in the other room, she knew she was too late; the commandos had just initiated the attack.

Her hands covered her mouth as she back stepped, unable to quiet her whimpering as the horror of what was going on dawned on her completely. They were killing him, right now, and she could do nothing to stop it. How could they do this? How could this be the way the Council's authority was supposed be used?

But her shame was cut off by her instinct as an entire section of the inner corridor crashed towards her, making her run headlong into the door in a panic. She kept her back to the wall as she spun around, the sound of the carnage breaking through the gap in the corridor's soundproofing taking her focus away from her dizziness and towards the two combatants that had just smashed through the wall.

She just didn't want to believe what she was seeing; a krogan being crushed into the wall with a naked giant striking him so quickly she couldn't see his pale arm moving, only feeling the spray of the krogan's orange blood sting her eye from the impact. And the Master Chief through himself back into the room to deal with the next wave of his would be killers.

Clasping her eye, she stumbled towards the hole in the wall with a morbid fascination,. The scream of a woman's voice drawing her gaze away from Grunt's unconscious form, a scream that flew across the room and ended abruptly in a sickening crunch as it hit the wall. Was that a commando? She didn't dare step into the room as she looked inside, the scream of machine tools and pain in the smoke-filled quarters freezing her place.

Almost instantly the noise stopped. Stopped cold. So quiet she could almost hear her heart beating. Sensibility screamed at her to stop, but her curiosity walking her into the suite slowly, unable to digest the carnage that lay at her feet. Blue, purple, and orange blood pooled on the floor and stained the walls in streaks, brutally purged from the bodies that now sprawled across the floor and on the shattered furniture.

Nuary had paused as she looked at a grind saw sunk into the chest of its krogan holder, but finally turned to the only standing figure in the room, his back to her as he looked down on the crushed turian at his feet. The Colossus armour gave away who it used to be, but frankly… identification would be a little messy without a head.

And there the Master Chief stood; pale, naked and the mist of a warp field still shimmering around him. Humans… weren't built like this. They weren't supposed to be this fast, or this strong, or even capable of something like this, especially not after being taken out of the fridge and sliced up and stitched like he just had.

"Are you all right?" The Master chief glanced over his shoulder at her, sounding perfectly at ease.

Nuary simply stood there stunned and holding her hand over her eye, now realizing she was the only one left in the room with him.

"Miss?" Master Chief turned to face her.

Assuming she was in shock was an easy assumption to make, or simply overwhelmed, but in the face is so much carnage, she was just trying to cling to a modest sensibility as she gathered herself.

"Just keep looking at his face…" Nuary whispered to herself.


	9. Build Up

Halo belongs to 343 Industries and Mass Effect 1 and 2 belong to Bioware.

* * *

Yeoman Chambers had gotten used to the Normandy being a little notorious whenever it pulled into sports; it was either going to be big changes, big fights or usually both as soon as it arrived, but the mob of businessmen and what looked to be scientists waiting at the docking bay was something even she couldn't have expected.

She had stayed on long enough to see Cerberus turn into the Directorate, but she could not avoid going into rehabilitation afterwards, not after enduring what she had. She was no Shepard, she couldn't dance and drink the night away until everything was a distant memory .

However, it had been six months since the ceremony, her claustrophobia had been dealt with, and the screams of those dying did not haunt her anymore. Now that therapy was over, and seeing the gift of survival she had been given, she knew that she had to give back even more. And there was no better place to do that then the Normandy.

"Yeoman." A woman's voice spoke behind her.

Ashley Williams? And looking like she was ready to rip someone's head off… well, more than _usual_.

"Yeoman Kelly Chambers, Chief Williams." Kelly took Ashley's hand in both of hers in a handshake. "I doubt anyone has told you about me, but part of my job as being the ship's counsellor. The other part of the job is recognizing who needs to talk." Kelly simply stood there and smiled warmly at the brooding operations chief. Quite forward a step for a ship's counselor, but there is no time like the now.

Williams' rigid posture and incredulous look almost took the smile from Kelly's face, but it won out as Ashley relaxed her shoulders and took a deep breath, seeing someone to confide in in front of her.

"It's just the usual Williams persona, or people just assume it is." Ashley leaned her weight against the bay's railing a she looked at Ileum's red skyline. "Just returned from my NOJT finalization on Sol… I thought someone in the Alliance would've grown up by now, or that I might have gotten used to their bullshit."

"Oh… things didn't work out the way you thought they would?" Kelly bit her lip anxiously.

"Nah, placed in the top 3% of anybody that they ever tested. It's just… putting the hand-to-hand combat before sniping to fuck with my fine motor coordination, or the armourers putting my gear last in the maintenance priority. Why the fuck can't they let it go?" Ashley spitting the words. "A nice, level playing field would be great for once. You know?"

Kelly could only nod her head sympathetically as the tromp of enormous feet brought their attention to an elcor that had just split off from the crowd.

"With eager anticipation. Would either of you fine ladies be a member of the Normandy?" The elcor swayed enthusiastically. "I come to represent my people's renewed hope for recognition in the field of architecture. I was hoping for an audience with Cmdr Shepard; the ability to use Prothean reinforcement on our buildings would allow us to create monuments to our ability and not be bound by high gravity for the first time in our history."

"I'm not sure about a personal visit, but I promise you your card will go right into her hand with your request. Would that help?" Kelly smiled at the enormous creature. The little she knew about Elcor mannerism suggested she might get a facial tweak from an excited member, but she had to restrain a giggle as he almost dropped his embassy card from the tremors of his excitement.

The two women made a quick line to the Normandy's hatch as they noticed other eyes in the crowd were watching them; best not to overextend personal assistance in advance.

Slipping through the crowd as best they could, they made their way to the airlock. There Shiala stood, wearing a proper dress and smiling at the VIPs as she took appointments and personal messages to pass on to Shepard. Hardly proper work for a commando, but certainly a step up from dealing with colony squabbling and fiscal reports.

Slipping past Shiala with a smile, something the Elcor mentioned to Kelly had stumped her. "Chief Williams, what was that 'Prothean reinforcement' thing he was talking about? I've never heard of anything like that."

"Oh, it's just one more thing a new crew addition has been pulling out of its ass. Actually, if you want to get caught up on what's been happening with the Normandy you probably want to talk to it first." Ashley's face was hard again as she turned away from the cockpit.

"Chief Williams." Kelly closed the distance between them. "For whatever it is worth, to be disappointed from your selection is actually a great thing. It might sting a little, but it means you still have hope, and that you're not building an emotional shell around yourself to avoid being hurt. It's really fantastic of you."

Ashley just looked at her in silence, unsure if the redhead in front of her was the real deal or just a fake, one of the usual 'make nice' types that seemed to respond out of pity.

But it was just Kelly, being Kelly. There is nothing to be defensive about.

Ashley rewarded her with a hard smile before returning to her station, and now Kelly was free to make the rounds from Joker right down to engineering, just to get a feel for the atmosphere and the new faces in the crew.

There was an obvious change in uniform color, and not so many colorful personalities remaining from Shepard's strike team, but there was latent tension in the air. Plenty of smiles and welcoming embraces for her, but there was an elephant in the room with every member she talked to.

What was the "it" crewmember Ashley had mentioned ? It had to be what was bringing the galaxy's elite to the Normandy's door in this number?

After a last farewell to Ken and Gabby, Kelly was back in the elevator and going to find out herself, looking to learn about whatever was in the conference room that everyone had avoided.

As much as she would miss EDI, there was a comfort knowing that she would be with countless members of her own kind while in Legion's platform, and once she had started her final trip to the CIC, Kelly found herself indulging her artistic side once he heard the voice of EDI's replacement.

"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings. Look on my works, all ye mighty, and despair." Vigil repeated Kelly's favorite quotation in a deep baritone. "Are there any further requests at this time, Yeoman Chambers?"

"No, no that was beautiful, Vigil." Kelly smiled. An AI was not a child's toy, but having poetry read to her with a voice like was definitely going to make her dreams sweeter. "Could you do a little research on a poet named Proust? I'd love to hear a narration of his work. But only if it's not too much trouble, though."

She kept her smile easy as she walked through the armory, thumbing the Elcor's business card as she walked through the conference room door, only now without the sterile light and replaced by walls covered by monitors flashing information, the floor a mesh of connecting cables humming with power.

And at the center of all of this was a blue light, from a stand in the middle of the room. Against the contrasting displays of the wall screens, it seemed quite tranquil, especially with all the ceiling lights turned off.

"Cmdr. Shepard is attending the Sentient Rights conference right now, Yeoman Chambers. She should be back by this evening." A woman's voice spoke out of the darkness. "But I can take the business card. Once the Elcor got word they could start building more than three stories high they won't get off the doorstep."

"Oh. Is that the Prothean reinforcement thing he was talking about?" Kelly stepped forward slowly. It was awkward talking to a voice coming through the room speakers all around her… or was this one of Joker's tricks? "Could I please talk to who ever it is I am talking to? Directly?"

"You only need to look down." The voice replied. Kelly finally seeing a figure reclining on the pedestal. A moment passed before Kelly finally sat herself down and looked at the blue projection directly.

"I have heard of the crew talk about Vigil, but I haven't heard anyone talk about you. Oh, where are my manners? Yeoman Kelly Chambers, it's a pleasure to meet you." Kelly put her face at the edge of the podium with a smile. " You can call me Kelly if you'd like."

"Cortana. If you hold the business card to the stand I can scan it for you." Cortana all business. "And before you ask, Prothean reinforcement is a restructuring process being reintroduced to give any material staying power. It is simply creating more bonds between molecules so their breakdown takes much longer than it would normally; just picture mixing cement with a fusion reactor involved.

Kelly flashed the business card against blue light emanating from the stand and looked back at the monitors. Another artificial intelligence? But where was it's Blue Box?

"Say, if you're an AI, why would you need all these screens to do your work? Don't you do all this in your head?" Kelly asked.

"It's just satisfying someone's vision of what an information exchange center is supposed to look like. Shepard is happy with regular updates to her omni, but the engineers got a little overzealous with the wall decoration once the budget was increased." Cortana spoke plainly. " Maybe they think they're doing me a favor."

"Oh. An increase in budget? Because of you? People on board usually get everything they asked for. I mean you must know the commander, she is just a giver." Kelly smiled. "And I know what kind of people she wants around her… I mean I do a little bit. I used to shake my head at some of them, but that was before I learned who she is. Did she recruit you as well? Or buy you? Oh, that was such a horrible thing to say, I'm sorry."

"Cmdr Shepard is into lame ducks. I'm just some salvage that she picked up on her travels."

"Well, I don't believe that for one second. You actually think… wait, yeah! I never thought about it like that before; the need that people have is what she keys on, and that is how she inspires them! I mean… everyone has a need, and that includes the people she needs, and she just works with that and not against it…" Kelly's mind raced, stalling momentarily before she returned to Cortana.

"And I still don't believe that you just said about yourself is true. The Normandy is famous, but I have never had a mob of scientists and executives trying to break in. And how long have people been trying to discover why Prothean buildings had such longevity, and here it is? No wonder no one talks about you, I don't think they know were to begin."

Kelly's hands fell in her lap as she looked at this 'Cortana', wondering what her curiosity had just walked her into.

_Who are you? Only the most incredible and extreme things fall into Shepard's life. _Kelly lost herself in thought, when something miniscule got her attention. A fleck of dust silhouetted on Cortana's shoulder.

"Wait. You're solid?" Kelly couldn't hide her excitement. "If I could please ask a favor, and I really don't mean to be insulting, but could I… see what you feel like? But really, I don't want you to take it the wrong way, it's totally okay you don't want me to."

For the first time in their exchange, Cortana cocked her head to one side in curiosity, then shrugged her shoulders and gave a small nod.

As delicately as she would have petted a kitten, Kelly ran her finger down Cortana's shoulder and down her side, utterly engrossed by the smoothness it possessed. How? Kelly might have expected a cold, hard surface at best, not such a delicate texture. "Thank you, that was just… Wow. I wish my skin had that kind of feel to it."

"I'm barely a year old; maybe it's supposed to be baby soft." Cortana shrugged.

"A year?" Kelly paused at the number. "With how much you know about everything, I'm pretty sure you know all there is to know about me, and that's fine, but I'd like to get to know you better. I just get the feeling that you're something more than… anyone understands. And before you say anything, I am fully versed in the emotional transference issues engineers get themselves into when they deal with an AI or VI for too long, and this is not it. That training was never meant to deal with someone like you, was it?"

"Some_thing_, Yeoman." Cortana refusing to look at her. "Life is too long as it is, and I won't have you wasting yours on me. You are here for the crew, not to maintain the software. You are a 'people person'; best to stick to people if you want to help. You'll never find my performance lacking, yeoman, your expertise won't be required here."

"Oh, I know _you _know me better than that already, Cortana. This is not emotional inflection; I know pain when I hear it. Especially coming from an AI with no Blue Box." Kelly put her foot down. "And I'm guessing that the commander being away at the Sentience Rights convention has much more to do with you than it does the Geth."

"She knows that Terminus systems will have to be dealt with a long time before we are ever on the border of the Veil, even with the Reapers on the horizon…" Kelly stopping herself. She was reacting against emotional armor… from an AI?

"Well… here's something you are going to have to learn about me, Cortana." Kelly took Cortana's projector off the stand and laid it gently in her lap. "_I'm _into lame ducks even more than the commander is."

* * *

Dusk had finally arrived.

Shiala gave a final courtesy nod to the Serrice Industries representative, quite relieved to get off her feet after a day on a tarmac. She never felt that looking back on salvaging and ordering rations back at the colony would make her nostalgic, but compared to the volume and nature of the business she was involved in now, it all seemed so simple and pleasant.

Now as a representative for 'Achea industries', her days were consumed by this manic routine of appointments and fiscal projections. Achea was just a guise, a proper title to help people conjure images of high-rises and sprawling production lines… as opposed to quarian Pilgrims assembling next-generation hardware out of an abandoned mine on some resourceless planet.

The urge to get out of the formalwear was overwhelming to Shiala once the Normandy's doors were closed behind her; a dress wasn't hard to wear but it certainly was confining to someone who had been trained to apply speed and violence with freedom of movement, which this outfit didn't afford her.

And as always, the usual spike of male crewmembers bringing updates to Joker as she began to disrobe, which was more amusing than flattering to her at this point. She was sensible about wearing undergarments between when the dress went into the locker and when her leathers came out, but that is what it took on a human vessel; they spent so much energy trying to impose a command structure, that their trying to grasp little moments of pleasure like this were inevitable.

"Hey, Shiala." Joker called from the cockpit. "The first set of prototypes is in. Ashley is getting everything set up in the bay if you want to look."

"Hmm… that might be prudent. Though I don't relish the thought of going into a fight with a hard suit, learning to apply conventional weapons exclusively may be my only option." Shiala sat down beside him. "And I also doubt Shepard would let a novice into a fight with her… Joker, do be honest with me. Why am I here? Right now, on this ship? I am little more than a concierge, huddled underneath engineering; I am not what the Normandy requires."

"I think you're looking too far into it." Joker applying his usual snark. "If you're looking for pity, I'm not your guy. The skipper has you here for a reason, and even I don't pretend to know what she's got on the horizon."

Joker finally put the weapon test up on his big-screen.

The chosen victim was a Mercenary hard suit, obviously past the point of salvage but the plating and the shields still holding up. Ashley had kept the firing range straightforward, with the target at the front of the shuttle bay, and the ramp lowered to let the Normandy's shield become the backstop; it wasn't SOP for and Alliance vessel to use its own shielding for a weapon test, but it sure as hell beat booking a rifle range and all the gear that went with it.

"Plasma rifles and particle beams, just arrived." Joker spoke as he prepped the shield readouts. "The Council would've been halfway down our throats by now if Cortana wasn't keeping their hacking in check. She made a false account for them to dip into and dressed this up as an investment into a new technologies firm. It'll stall them, but they ain't gonna buy this much longer, not at this rate of production."

"And it is only going to increase, Joker. Shepard struck a deal with the Flotilla that gives her a direct line to anyone on their Pilgrimage, even those on Ileum and the Citadel are being filtered away slowly."

The two of them watched as Ashley called "first firing, plasma rifle" as she fired at the Mercenary suit with a superheated shot, perforating the suit completely as it crashed on the Normandy's shields behind it. There was a wave of excited chortling in the bay as they realized the shield envelope had popped completely by the hit, with the ballistic plating now oozing off in molten drips.

"I believe Shepard is more attuned to the Reapers timetable, not the Council's." Shiala smiling at the weapon's effectiveness. "The entire galaxy is going to need this weaponry and she knows it. Moreover, I am speaking of Cortana and not just Shepard, Joker. No one is worthy enough to understand the will of Athame, but I do believe I see her will reaching fruition right before our eyes. I see our chance of survival lining up at our doors to be included in Achea's developments. The asari have always been fascinated by this concept of 'total war' that humanity functions by. I am not naïve enough to call it 'the free market' as the businessmen do, is the body of power that fuels your warfare, Joker."

"The asari have always had our warriors as standing protection, and the Hierarchy and even the krogan have steeped themselves in martial discipline as a way of life. However, for you humans, it has been repeated for centuries that your entire people revert to a predatory state in times of conflict, but shed your claws was the fighting stops. You bleed horribly in the initial stages, develop with incredible bounds, and master yourselves by the conflict's finale. All other races are too set in their ways, but with Achea as Shepard's instrument, all will be included."

Joker kept his ears open as his eyes kept to the screen, watching as Ashley beaded the particle beam on the hard suit. With a faint 'click' and a small ripple through her shoulder, Ashley's shot shattered the suits plating and blew the power plant clean off it's back before the slug crashed into the shielding, the clatter of suit parts pinging off the walls drown in a roar of applause and laughter.

"There's more to it than that, especially with the smell of this many credits in the air. " Jokers smiling like a cat that swallowed the canary. "Everybody will want to take a taste and I'm guessing it will be the Council demanding their cut first, which if you hadn't noticed, who we spend as much time fighting as any of the bad guys. Ain't gonna be much of it left once all the hands are in the pot"

Shiala just sat in silence as she mulled over his words, watching the crew members scurrying to put conventional targets up in front of the bulkhead, eager as children to take a crack at the new weaponry. Hard suit to scrap in just two shots? Nobody was going to miss their turn.

"So, I suppose just to be on her side is enough to qualify me." Shiala stood up and started towards the CIC. "At least for now. If what you say is true, I best try my hand at the new weaponry. Thank you, Joker."

Joker quickly logged the ballistic information from the shield weapon impact to Shepard's log, more than aware that Cortana would be breaking this down all on her own, being an exponentially bigger busybody than he could dream of.

He just pause for a moment when he finished, taking a few deep breaths as he reveled in the smell of Shiala's perfume. Besides Shepard, guests weren't commonplace in the cockpit, which was 'his', just like the rest of this ship as far as his concern went.

What was he really without the Normandy? He had no doubt about how unbalanced his life was, there was no other way to do what he did. Hell, being unbalanced was the only way to be great, you just had look at how few geniuses mankind produced after gene therapy had eliminated autism.

He hadn't been born with his ass bolted to the seat, this is what he had chosen to be; the real cost of being the greatest helmsman in the Alliance was simply being lonely at the top.

There were only a few occasions he stopped to think about it, but as he caught sight of Shepard's taxi beside the entrance ramp, this wouldn't be one of them. And by the unceremonious clatter of luggage once the door opened, seems the Sentience Rights convention had been celebrated with excess.

"Oh great, thigh high boots." Joker smiled, watching her stagger up the ramp with two dockworkers helping with her luggage. He knew Shepard's dress code; thigh boots with a mini-skirt and halter top… this was going to be a ride. Shame he'd miss Shiala's reaction to this sight for the first time.

"_An-nd_ how is my favorite helmsman doing, hmm?" Shepard staggered past the airlock towards Joker, miraculously not tripping. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

Joker felt a hand jerk his head back as Shepard planted a rum soaked kiss on his mouth, and then set herself on the armrest as she looked at him with her drunken smile, her cleavage planted next to his face.

"Uhh… Ryncol, commander?" Joker's mouth and nostrils burning from the krogan liquor.

"Oh, Ratch caught up with me after I was leaving the convention hall, he wanted to give me a night out since he's gone from peddling weapon mods for Urdnot to subcontracting orbital platforms and buying heavy armor." Shepard leaning in a little closer to Joker with a mischievous grin. "I might need you in the future for some specialty work; I'll be needing a project leader for designing flight controls for krogan. You in? I'll even let you order Cortana around if you'd like." Shepard giggled as she sat herself in his lap, though keeping her weight on the armrests.

"Much as I love talking shop, Commander, I thought you should know Yeoman Chambers is back on board and has been taking an interest in our 'software' upgrade." Joker spoke quickly. "She's been in there since 1400 hrs. and hasn't been seen since. Maybe she needs rescuing?"

He was rewarded with a small pause from Shepard before a wicked grin took over her face. "Well… I guess I shouldn't be a stranger. Nighty night, Joker." Shepard let her hand run across his beard as he slipped off the chair and headed towards the conference room, still doing a poor job at walking in a straight line.

Joker let himself exhale for the first time since the airlock opened, and tried to wipe the burn off his lips. It was easy to keep his eyes from wandering to Shepard during work hours, though her drunken flirting after-hours more than made up for it. It was just a pipe dream, but it was a wonderful one.

And she also knew how well it chased away the loneliness for her helmsman.

* * *

Kelly was taken off guard by the clatter of clumsy feet at the door, eyes going wide at the site of Shepard leaning on the frame with a drunken smile.

"Oh, Commander. I'm so sorry I… didn't see you… when…" Kelly stalling completely as she looked at Shepherd's outfit, and just kept staring as Shepard flopped down beside her and put an arm around her waist.

"So, how are you girls doing?" Shepard propping her chin up on Kelly's shoulder. "Well, Kelly, has Cortana given you the full scoop on her? The Council is to get their entire stinking war on discount, and all she is going to cost us is a higher electricity bill. Why don't you ask her how she got the capital to get her little business running?"

"Okay, how?" Kelly barely able to get the words out as Shepard's nose nuzzle her ear.

"Just like that." Shepard snapped her fingers. "I think she's going to be very popular with everybody around retirement time, don't you think? If it exists in digital space, she can simply create it. But I know it's not like you to worry about money, hmmm? You're too concerned with everyone else first." Shepard's hand snaking under Kelly's shirt.

"Well if you ladies don't mind, I've got a hot shower and a warm bed waiting for me. Well, hot shower at least, a warm bed need someone in it first." Shepard took a final smell of Kelly's hair before pushing herself up right, and quietly walked out without a backward glance.

Kelly only sat and sputtered in little giggles for a moment, trying to focus back on Cortana with a impish grin across her face. "Oh… what were you saying?"

"You do know that Shepard was raised polyandrous, correct?" Cortana asked.

"Of course. It's just that she and Garrus are an item now, it's just… well we had this one time together, and it was wonderful. That she is happy is more important than what I want, and they are perfect balance for each other." Kelly hugged her knees again. "He is what's right for her."

"He's also aware of who she is and what she needs in order to do what she does. He knows what will happen while he's away." Cortana gave a rare smile. "With his sense of honor, and wanting what's best for the greater good… I'd say this is how he'd want it to happen. He never considered _you _a threat."

"Well then, this is a new… ohm… I should just get going." Kelly gave a small smile as she started towards the door, giving Cortana a thankful nod before she turned the corner. Only she didn't get very far before turning around. "There was just this one last little thing. When Jane and I…shared the evening, I was wearing this old outfit from when I was working my way through college, just part-time as an entertainer at a gentleman's club…"

"I am sure she would appreciate the kinky outfit any other time, but she's already started her shower." Cortana looked over her shoulder. "I'll make sure her door opens automatically when you get there."

Kelly's usual politeness was replaced by a delighted giggle as she made her way back down the hall for a second time.

But now, time for answers.

"Joker, I couldn't help but notice that nobody seems to be talking about Tuchanka today. That's a little funny given the Council's announcement." Cortana piping her voice to the cockpit. "Would you know anything about that? What with your blocking out the Extranet announcements and all?"

"There's nothing we can do about it, we have one more business day, and I'm not pissing on anybody's last day of leave." Joker's explanation right at hand. "And when hasn't Tuchanka been hard at it? Before formally recognizing a war is on means everything that happened there before is a figment of our imagination? Hardly."

_And we both know who'll they'll want to check on it. _Cortana letting the helmsman get back to work. Some quick changes to Achea's shipping schedule would make sure the heavy armor would arrive a few days before the Normandy would.

_She's not at all you, you know that John. _Cortana took her mind from her work, to her once-a-day retreat into her memories. _Jane's her own kind of crazy, and her kind of brilliant. And she fights for me, while everyone else here is so afraid of what I am. I need to be here for her now… she's the one, you know? She's their best chance to survive, so I can't stop. All of this is just… something I've gotta do. Something you'd want me to do. _A bittersweet smile crept up on her as she spoke.

_I love you._


	10. Integration

Halo belongs to 343 Industries and Mass Effect belongs to Bioware.

* * *

Nuary had no chance of getting the shower room to herself, too many people and too set a routine to try to squirm in between them coming and going. Honestly, it wasn't the crowd getting to her, it was the bloody way the other asari were going about their bathing.

"And I'd just blown the door off its hinges and was rear cover as our stack rushed the room, and then a singularity pops up right in the middle of us." Nuary listened in on two commandos reviewing their last training run. "And we're wondering why Jay'em would trying something so bloody amateur on us when 'Boom!' the whole damn thing ignites, and now half the team is blown outside the room and then we hear this 'Never saw me coming!'. So the entire team is flat on its ass and now contact mines are being shot all around us; we can't do much more then blink without them blowing... and there's Vakarian walking out the door, smiling at us. Bastard blew the singularity with a concussive round, so we didn't even have half the time we needed to react."

The commando kept talking as she washed the back of her team member, Nuary keeping her eyes glued to the wall as the sponge started working its way off the other commando's back and below her waist.

"Wait... he's using a warp mod for his impact shots? What a masochist. The effect field of those things really messes with the eezo core; he probably spends an hour a day tweaking it just to keep his long range alignment." The second asari spoke. "At least he can capitalize on a biotic team member rather then just shooting up singularity captures. He and Jay'em make a good team." She turned off the faucet and began toweling off her friend's back.

_Ugh… damn lesbians. _Nuary frantically running a loofah over her scalp crests as she tried to hasten her exit to the door. Crap like this definitely wasn't her father had taught her anything about. Did the word 'awkward' mean anything to these people?

"Oh, Nuary right? Jay'em's aide?" Nuary froze as she felt a hand on her waist. "If you'll pardon my intrusion, is it true that this 'super human' is set to accompany your team ground side?" The two asari turning their attention to Nuary. "And another rumor says you're supposed to be his escort. Easy to understand why, he'd suspect you least of treachery." Nuary feeling the commando's hand slip to her lower back.

"Oh, really, I couldn't tell you why!" Nuary snatched her back scrubber from the shower stand and frantically started brushing. "Just trying to be a help!" Failing miserably at keeping the sound of panic out of her voice.

The commandos just giggled as they watched her wrap up her shower, hastily putting her bathrobe and out the door without drying herself off.

_Go ahead, yuck it up at the new girl's expense. _Nuary realizing she'd forgotten her shower sandals as she walked down the hallway, feeling the cold floor on her feet as made her way to her quarters.

At least the teasing had gotten her mind off her big meeting this afternoon with her new 'responsibility'. She could agree with the commando's assessment of how intimidating she looked; with her in tow, the Master Chief might look like someone reasonable, not an indiscriminate killer.

Most everyone understood he had defended himself, but with his surreal origins whispered about and the caliber of the operatives he'd killed, Matriarch Lidanya had to do something to make him seem more grounded, as someone you talk to and reasoned with.

And the solution she'd tabled was Nuary being his guide.

Three hours later she was in the starboard armory, watching Tali wrap up the Chief's armor retrofit through a wall monitor as Mordin talked about his latest breakthrough to Lidanya's inner circle, trying to put him in a scientific light and not suspicion. Though Aralakh Company's commander was notably absent, Grunt wasn't one to miss events like this.

"The key was identifying the decay rates within the gamma field itself, and from there I could deduce the actual point of contact where our time-line was pierced. At the center was our present time line where he entered, but as you worked out to the far edge of the event, the time line became older, old enough for the radiation it contained to have aged past its half-life, which made the radiation field grow weaker in strength." Mordin gushed eagerly. "And as for the wildcat detonation of a drive core that actually propelled him into the eezo field, there are only theories, but the amount of wreckage from multiple ships in the adjacent area speaks to something highly experimental being conducted and ending in disaster."

"That's the facts about his arrival, logically deduced, but what about this 'other reality' you're talking about? The whole sticking point of believing this scenario is that." Xeno spoke from the back of the room. "Its just too much to believe, Mordin; his being kept behind closed doors, how little he says and what people are projecting, he's too much for people to accept."

"That's yet to be seen. Moreover, as for his point of origin, it's not an 'other reality', it's the continuum of the multi-verse; quantum physicists concluded that the model of a universe as inaccurate centuries ago. The Master Chief is the first piece of physical proof that our existence is linear to others, which has hitherto been uncontaminated by physical transfers." Mordin countered.

"Isn't contamination kind of a strong word?" Garrus spoke without taking his eyes off the monitor. "Wouldn't 'influence' or 'contribution' make him sound more like a gift from the powers that be?"

"The contamination is by the event, and not by the individual. His influence has yet to be realized." Mordin returned. "But a simple fact of his arrival is that whatever might have occurred in our lives before can no longer be realized; that path is now redacted."

Nuary couldn't hear them, not with what was about to happen. As soon as Tali wrapped up her work on the armor, she'd be hip to hip with this thing from now on.

Why couldn't they see what this was doing to her? Everyone seemed too distracted to see. Tali was eating up all this xeno-technology, Jay'em was star struck, Mordin was drowning himself in the event that brought this whole thing to be... at least Garrus seemed to be mindful of her. Just a reassuring smile and joking with that slick sense of humor, but it was enough.

Everyone watched as Tali wrapped up her final adjustments to the Mjolnir, her height not even level to his chest as she stood before him.

Whatever he was without his armor, at least being able to see those powerful, sad eyes of his gave some sliver of humanity to hold onto, but now it was behind a golden visor now. Add the wires hanging off him for the diagnostic, he looked like mechanization and not a man.

"Arms out to the side." Tali asked as she looked at her readout, seeing the feedback from the Chief's suit. The Mjolnir was spoken of as a creation onto itself since her and her team had begun to repair it; not like anything she'd come across in her life, Collector or Reaper tech included.

She had seen the carnage he had wrought on his would-be executioners barehanded, and the quarian in her was bubbling with anticipation about whether the man truly represented the suit he wore or not.

"Pressure on the fingers tips." The Chief replied, then feeling the tension ease as Tali re-adjusted the hydraulic pressure.

"A-and… we're done, Chief. Matriarch Lidanya is on her way, so I'll give you the full work-down now." Tali kept talking as she began removing the diagnostic cords. "First, your omni-tool will be having a rotating display, it will keep pivoted towards your visor at all times, and also it is set to receive tactical commands from your neural port." _Like initiating a hack with your hand on your rifle, Garrus style._

"I need to tell you that to account for your new size we've had to buff out some of your suit's dimensions, but it gave us a chance to put some counter-measures in place with the new space. We'll be putting you through the paces on countering biotic and tech attacks, but suffice to say the threshold and insulation suite we've put in place will keep you save from any biotic or hack attempt thrown at you."

"How am I in danger? My suit systems aren't compatible enough to yours." The Chief responded.

"True, but any weaponry or equipment on your person would be affected if it weren't in proper field envelopment. Which brings me to the second fixture we were able equip; we've equipped each of those layers with higher-power junctions and a direct feed to your neural port, so you can adjust power to each layer as threats materialize. With a power plant like yours, there was too much advantage involved not to redirect some of the energy elsewhere."

"Or ignite it if I'm a threat?"

Tali paused at the blunt suggestion. She ran the possibility through her head, an action that had escaped her while she was caught up in this suit repair.

"Well, that security feature made for quite an introduction when we first started your armor's blueprinting... but not much for someone whose disarmed tactical nukes before. However, no. The Matriarch's not like that, and neither am I. That's why there are no lock-down switches or bugs built in, and I wouldn't have even if I were ordered. I am a Quarian, and none that ever called themselves by that name would ever tamper with the safety of another's suit." Tali rapped her knuckles off his chest plate. "Besides, even I'd agreed, an airlock and two hours of waiting would do the job just as well without wrecking armor of this value, hmm?"

A wave of disbelieving groans washed over the crowd in the observatory, while giving Garrus a chuckle. After this much time working under Jane and a talent like Tali's, at least she came by the attitude honestly.

"And this is the medical department's contribution." Tali held a small box up to the Chief. "This will snap onto your wrist and feed directly into your injection line for when you want to sleep pain free. This read-out starts the timer for when you rise, and the other triggers are voice activation and this red button for when others need to wake you in case of emergency. The timer will cease the anesthetic dispensing over 15 minutes, the voice activation over five minutes, and the button halts it completely and supplements with a dose of adrenaline."

A building tone from the entrance gave the matriarch's aural signature, giving Tali a chance to put her monitor down and stand properly beside the Chief as Lidanya entered, having dispensed with her work suit for formal wear for her first face-to-face with the Master Chief. Tali gave a bow, while the Chief turned a few heads as his heels clicked together and gave her a sharp salute.

"Good day to you, Master Chief." Lidanya returned with a curtsy. "I am Matriarch Lidanya, captain of the Destiny Ascension. I have been notably absent throughout your time aboard, if only that I wasn't the specialist that was required for your needs. I apologize for the attempt on your life; please believe I would never order such an action."

"I have given my orders to keep you secure from my crew, but I know it won't keep some at bay, which is why I gave the order for armor to be repaired and returned to you. Your trust is something I hope to gain with your time aboard."

"In the brief given to you, you'll understand that the Reapers are a formidable enemy, and this vessel's express mission is to destroy their agents. Against this enemy, the unique qualities of your armor have raised questions about its vulnerability and your reliability. Our enemy is a synthetic life form beyond our understanding, and the Mjolnir is capable of housing such a formidable entity, if my researchers results are accurate. The simplest mind would grasp the suspicion that brings you."

"As a soldier and as a commander yourself, I want you to understand how dire this situation is on a ship with no ties back to our worlds and a mission that asks so much time and uncertainty of us. I ask you also to consider my position... when I ordered your armor returned, untampered with and upgraded where possible."

"Your story and circumstance must be extraordinary, Master Chief, and I won't have you punished because of our fears."

Master Chief sharply saluted the matriarch; a very solid step in a very new direction.

"I hope to talk again, Master Chief, but for now there always matters to attend to aboard. I'll leave you to the caretakers that offered to be your guide while aboard." Lidanya bowed gracefully and departed with her staff, letting Jay'em walk in from the hallway quietly.

"Master Chief. About time we get out of your quarters and let you have a proper tour." Jay'em smiled up at him.

Murmurs rose from the observatory as the two of them departed the armory, suspicious eyes glaring at Jay'em as she handed over the keys to the castle.

Garrus could the feel the tension from everyone as he walked towards the armory himself, the incessant kind of suspicion that chews away at the faith in those around you. Opinions on the Master Chief were cutting a straight-line people's belief, who to trust, what they believed... Everything.

People's truest measurement seemed to come when they are dealing with what they don't understand.

Moreover, as much as he'd learned from Jane, Garrus was the first to admit that no one was like her enough to do what she does, that absolute faith she put on people.

Besides Jay'em, Mordin seemed the least suspicious of the Chief overall, seeing him as a proper soldier and safe provided the crew didn't make themselves a threat. He only needed to point as far as Grunt's survival to back his claim, a simple killer would have finished him while was still unconscious.

Garrus's own stance would have to be like everyone else's, Jay'em's belief in him or not... wait and see where the Chief took his first steps.

"A bit bold, weren't you? Most would be a bit cautious around someone like him." Garrus spoke glibly as he entered the armory.

"Attack me in front of a camera? Unlikely. Besides, I'm no good at diplomacy; I let others know where I stand and we'll let things go from there. He already knows I'm one of the few who can fix the Mjolnir, nd he seems the practical sort." Tali started cleaning shop.

"He does?" Garrus crossed his arms. "I won't ask how you know that, but if anyone could read body language through a half a ton of armor, it would be you. Now come with me, I have someone that wants to meet you." Garrus showed her the door.

"Oh, fine. Can this be quick? I have work to get back to and the show the Master Chief gave me before the suit adjustment was enough to give me all the 'personal time' I'll need for a month. Keelah, how does someone who says so little have that little inhibition?"

"Maybe he missed his armor. I feel like a piece of me is gone without my armor on."

"Ha! Is it _really_ your reason? I've seen you without a shirt on; you look like a swabbing rod for the thermal pipes without it."

"Oh, now that was below the belt. Now, what work are you talking about? We're not due to arrive at the base of operations for another week." Garrus poked. "Pet project?"

"Yes, if you must know. Lidanya said no exploiting his systems, but you can't repair something that extensively without learning something. You don't even need to grasp the proof of concept to make it work; how do you think we fired up his power systems without knowing how his shielding worked... ugh, not just the shielding, and his power-plant had no liquid coolant system at all, and then there is his energy sword…" Tali stopped and stared at the floor in frustration.

"So much, Garrus. There is so much more we could have learned. In the mean time, what we can work on is our air filtration systems. It wasn't invasive or a weapon system for the matriarch to be worried about. The Mjolnir's air system isn't just an emergency air supply, it also can cleanse toxic air into something breathable, which we quarians also have, but it's another feature that is most valuable to us. These 'air scrubbers' in his air system connect to his suit lining and actually pull build-up away from the skin and expel them with his respiration. Could you imagine a quarian suit with that ability? No weekly epidermal scrubbing, just putting the liner through decontamination every few months. It could save us hundreds of hours a year in suit maintenance; it was so effective that even the dried blood from his injuries was being removed slowly."

"Here we are." Garrus smiled as they arrived at the lecture hall.

A couple steps past the entrance revealed Xeno at the podium and her staff in the stands, most of which Tali recognized from the entry medicals she and the others received. They smiled pleasantly enough, but something seemed... off about how they were looking at her.

"Garrus, what's going on?"

"Xeno. Ladies." Garrus put both his hands on Tali's shoulders as he greeted the medical group. "One over-stimmed quarian as promised."

"Garrus?"

"You weren't about to let Mordin elbow in on your work, and there's only one way to outwork a salarian. Even if you don't agree with me, think of the medical benefits the other quarians will get on your account." Garrus smiled and walked to the door. "Besides, we need you. I need you, and now the Chief does too. It's too much to risk you burning out this early on."

The door closing behind him cut off Tali's frustrated expletive mid sentence.

Even Xeno would have her own hands busy with her own discoveries, mostly the "bio-foam" they'd salvage from the Master Chief's utility belt. Damn stuff was an operation in a can from what she'd seen, and he'd seen how many deposits of this stuff there were in him from checking his body scans... medi-gel couldn't have handled that kind of trauma.

Half way down the hallway, his thoughts returned to what she had said as he saw his reflection in a window. Thermal swab, huh? The Hierarchy had been correct in their emphasis on a soldier's leg and back strength, leaving the upper body lithe to keep the limbs quick, and his own regimen had pretty much reflected that ever since.

But after seeing what the Chief had done to Edge's team was giving him second thoughts... mixed with a bit of chagrin.

Garrus pulled up his last picture of the Chief after his retrofit. He had skimmed the dimensions of the Mjolnir quickly, and other then the power plant and armored plating, most of what you saw was the man himself with a few centimeters of outer coverage. For a human's build, his limbs were big when compared to his upper body... what was that animal Jane used to describe it? Gorilla?

However, she had smiled when she said it.

Garrus gave his arms a quick flex in the glass as he mulled it over.

* * *

Nuary tried to slow her breathing as the she felt the rumble of footsteps come to the entrance. Heavy footsteps were normal now that the Ascension had so many krogan aboard, but the lack of sound as the Chief's feet fell was a quick reminder of what preceded the silence last time.

She put a plastic grin on as the door unfurled, her eyes re-widening at the green carapace that was protecting him now. Seeing this thing on a monitor was no substitute to seeing it first hand.

"Hey, almost didn't recognize you with clothes on." Nuary cracked as the Chief came to a stop, but just got an amused smile from Jay'em. Then an awkward pause.

"Okay, that sounded better when I thought of it earlier."

"Master Chief, this is Nuary. She'll be your ship guide and administrative support when I'm not around. She'll be treating you to lunch and this afternoon she'll start you on the advanced features of your omni-tool. After that, my newest candidate, Garrus Vakarian, will be giving you your first range practice." Jay'em explained, resting her hand on his arm. "I've some feathers to smooth out with the chain of command until then. Take care."

On Jay'em's advice, Nuary kept to her strong suits as she walked to the mess, filling the Chief in on the additional tech points Tali hadn't covered, trying to keeping talking and not let herself slip into thinking about the situation too hard.

"And adjusting the power levels in your omni and defense layer is coming from the same neural junction, so looking at the relevant icon on your HUD will adjust power output of your choice." Nuary rolled her explanation into her question. "I know you've... _experienced _some biotic effects yourself, but what were your thoughts about it?"

"Are you asking if you could take me?"

"No. NO! Not at all. No. Just looking for a... I don't know perspective? Everyone's basically been told what it is, what to expect from it, but you got the whole "never seen it or dealt with it" circumstance and still did alright."

"You have to stack biotics with conventional weapons to make it count."

"That's it?"

"That's all I need."

"Geez, you must've driven your girlfriend nuts." Nuary opening up a touch, though the Chief wasn't as fast at a reply as she'd hoped.

In addition, in that moment of silence, her thoughts broke the facade of technical support as she wandered what her words might have touched off.

"Doesn't it... hurt?" Nuary waved her hands around her head. "Just, the doc was saying that static thing you've got going on in your head would be debilitating even for a krogan. Don't you want it to stop?"

The Chief finally turned to her as he walked, maybe doing a summary on where the question was coming from, as best as Nuary could figure. She knew she couldn't play those games of subterfuge and manipulation like a salarian, so she just wouldn't try.

"Being drugged slows you down." Chief's visor turned back to the hallway.

"Oh. I see." Her thoughts went back two weeks. Armor wouldn't be enough would it? Not if they really tried. Not if they had an airlock and two yours... how could he even sleep with that kind of reality? Well, he wasn't right now, was he? For God's sake, what a mess... not as if he'd asked to be here.

"Well, maybe after a while that'll change. When they get to know you a little better?" Nuary smiled up at him.

The pair finally reached the mess, a cul-de-sac of hallways leading into the tables of asari technicians and sailors, beckoning a universal pause to the chatter once the Spartan walked in. Just brief glances before pretending to go back to their meal, conversations continuing quietly.

A quick scan of the room revealed their table inside the VIP section, and surrounded by a stack of reinforced stools usually used by krogan to handle the Mjolnir's weight. A cart loaded with steaming platters was waiting beside it already; it seemed the cooks weren't going to chance an encounter just yet.

Everything encased in a room of glass and as far away as it could be in a busy mess, but it was a start.

"I'm kind of meat and potatoes girl myself, I take after my Dad that way, so I ordered everything earlier. I also asked for a side of some kind of vegetable, 'cause you've gotta have that to." Nuary eyed the food. "Most asari might seem like steamed vegetable and herbal tea sorts, but there's always outliers."

The VIP section was as advertised, lavishly decorated and reminiscent of a garden patio. Nuary knew it was much more then decoration; the splash of the waterfall was a wonderful counter to the acoustics of any sound proofing, and a short thought too how much interference the high moisture content provided against...

Nuary snapped herself out of her curiosity as she sat on her oversized seat and began filling her plate. All of those measures were well out of her hands, she had a guest to entertain, and whatever this meat actually was, and it was certainly making her mouth water. Moreover, it would be nice just to see him eat for once, every body seems a bit more grounded when they sit and eat as everyone else does.

"Oh, let me." Nuary stretched across the table to the Chief's plate and cut a few pieces off what he'd taken. "Figure anything strong enough to drop you should drop me in just a few seconds." Trying to sound jestful.

Well, it was one way to earn some trust. And what had she just done? Poison testing? Rash perhaps, but the guest that had just walked through the door stopped her thought mid-chew.

"Ha-ha. Finally found you!" Grunt sat down on a stool with a clatter. "Got a proposition for you, human."

_Oh, Jesus fucking H Christ. _Nuary broke into a cold sweat while her stomach turned over. _What the hell is he doing in this wing of the ship?_

The Chief just sat there, outspoken as always. His head only canted towards the door slightly as asari security looked in to see if a fight had broken out.

"You're a worthy opponent, human, not the scum Edge told us you were. And it seems you like wrestling krogan naked, ha-ha!" Grunt slammed his fists on the table as he laughed. "I command Aralakh Company, the best fighters the krogan have, and I want you to fight with us. My last battlemaster showed me a real warrior needs a purpose, and that choice is yours since you don't have anybody giving you orders anymore."

"You want him to just welcome a horde of krogan after you attacked him?" Nuary squeaked.

"Why? That idea scares you?" Grunt grinned at him.

"If it did, my eyes would be wider." The Master Chief replied.

Grunt's chortling laugh filled the air again. "So, how about it? My krogan know better then to attack you, they have their orders from me. With an asari Spectre and Garrus tagging along, we'll be kicking every kind of ass and everyone on board will see you stand with us. Our enemies won't know what hit 'em."

The Master Chief just sat and thought.

But just him thinking of his own accord now, with no war or people of his own that needed defending. Now on a ship full of aliens, some vying for his trust, others trying to kill him, and most naturally mistrusting of a giant soldier spawned from split space.

It was all his choice now, with no orders, no UNSC, no Spartans... no Cortana to take care of anymore. But he'd never stop being their representative, _their_ soldier, now and always. He'd read everything Jay'em had given him on these "Reapers", of Anvil, of this new humanity and the Systems Alliance, and how far behind they were in their preparations to fight this new threat.

Moreover, right now, who was the only one to show them how to fight a hyper-advanced, genocidal superpower?

The Chief finally offered a handshake across the table, enthusiastically accepted by Grunt as he pounded the table with his other fist in celebration. And just in time for Jay'em to arrive at the doors, panting lightly after her sprint to get here.

"Is everything alright in here?" Jay'em eyeing Grunt at the table.

"Better!" Grunt helping himself to a slab meat on the table. "Welcome to Aralakh... aw hell. What do I call you, human?"

"Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117." He spoke as Jay'em sat down beside him with a smile, curious about this new detente taking effect.

"You got a number and not a name? Damn, I know exactly what that's like!" Grunt's eyes seemed to twinkle. "I like you more already!"

And for the first real time, Grunt looked Nuary, and then turned back to Jay'em.

"But couldn't you have gotten him someone hardier for a plaything? She looks kinda scrawny."


	11. Evolution

Halo belongs to 343 Industries and Mass Effect belongs to Bioware.

* * *

She'd been on medical tables before, certainly aboard the original Normandy, but to Ashley it just meant more time away from where she made herself useful, especially for something as small as a concussion and some shrapnel peppering her left side.

"There was no trauma to the eye, but there will be pressure on the optical nerve until the swelling goes down." Dr Chakwas spoke calmly as she assisted Ashley off the stretcher. "And I've been informed Shiala has already left to take your spot on the team, so you can focus on your recovery fully before your NOJT deployment next week. When I spoke to her, she wanted to say thank you for the use of your equipment while you were down."

"WHAT?" Ashley erupted at the doctor. "Who the hell ordered me out of the field? _And _with my gear? This is nothing." Ashley pointed at her swollen face.

"True, but it wasn't the Commander that requested you be withheld from operations. It was Cortana." Chakwas put a reassuring hand on Ashley's shoulder. "She asked for you to see her as soon as you were up."

"Thanks, Doc." Ashley replied through clenched teeth as she strode towards the elevator. This day just kept getting better and better.

Just four hours ago, she'd been on Tuchanka with Shepard and an Urdnot scout party, doing a probing attack into Clan Terway's turf when their attack had pissed somebody off bad enough to respond with reinforcements.

She'd happily been counter-sniping for the party while they advanced, making a few shots clean through the buildings thanks to a microwave optic on her particle rifle. Then that damn Tomka collapsed the building she'd been taking cover behind in a spray of debris and shrapnel.

Pinned beneath a slab of concrete and all her strength trying to push the slab off her chest just enough to breathe, but her number had been up once she heard the clatter of Terway warriors coming towards her.

The grin one that krogan's face as he leveled his shotgun at her face said everything… you're mine. Then, enter Shepard with a biotic charge into the krogan, with enough biotic discharge from the impact to knock every krogan backwards.

It was probably just a few seconds between the last shotgun blast and the sight of Shepard shuffling towards her, but that means nothing to lungs that are in a frenzy to be filled. Shepard finally pulled her from beneath the concrete, lifting the slab with one hand and pulling her out with the other.

One more inordinate display of ability from the immortal Shepard. The gap had existed between her extraordinary skills and being a mere human didn't exist anymore.

Whatever Lazarus had done to her, it was more then resurrection, it had been an evolution as well. The power and speed Shepard possessed now was too great for such a small human… and the only reason Ashley was back on the Normandy was because of that unnatural prowess.

Ashley felt the ache of her injuries flare up as she approached the conference room, heart pounding as she readied herself to give Cortana a piece of her mind; no digital bitch with an extension cord up its ass was gonna subvert command authority on an Alliance ship. Not on her watch.

"Alright! Just what the fuck do think you're doing passing Skipper's orders off as… and my gear to…" Ashley's words stuck as she looked at the hard-suit standing in the conference room.

She _knew _armor. Period. Every type and ability it possessed. Terminus, Hegemony, Turian, especially Alliance, but what was this thing standing here? The helmet looked like N7 in design except for the golden eye slit and armored face plate, but the sleek under-suit with the green plating over top was like nothing she'd ever seen.

"It's a prototype." Ashley heard Cortana speak as she walked towards it. "This one could be yours."

"Could be?"

"If you tried to wear it now, it would rip you apart, Chief Williams. But that's why I asked you to be here. I need your answer if you want this before your deployment next week." Cortana asked.

"Asking me over the wire was too hard?" Ashley looked down at the weaponry cases beside the armor's pedestal. "And where did these come from?|"

"Could be yours, also. For the time being neither have a title, but that will be resolved shortly." Cortana replied. "But this is why you had to see me beforehand. _You'd _be a prototype as well." The main screen in the room lit up with an anatomy display.

"Alloy reinforced bones, a superconductive nervous system, everything you see here." Cortana spoke as the display highlighted individual upgrades, the icons beside them detailing the effects of each procedure.

Ashley thumbed a handgun out of one the cases as she listened to what she was being told, just wanting to do something familiar with her hands as Cortana spoke. Something told her this conversation was going to be legendary.

Ashley rolled the sidearm in her hands back and forth, as she approached the screen, pushing the "thyroid implant" icon on the display, and watched as the musculature on the display body doubled in size and its height increase by several inches. Then the "cortical implant" icon to see how tactical information would be feeding directly into her mind, and then how the armor's controls work as fast as she thought, not by how fast it could react.

Then the icons for the "alloy skeletal reinforcement", "carbon fiber fascia", and every detail and promise it made with each additional procedure. Screw the Illusive Man, even Nietzsche would have approved of what this 'Augmentation' promised to turn a mortal man into. Reflexes that were measured in the milliseconds, eyes that could see in the dark, with power and speed that outmatched a horse… even bones that couldn't be broken. And all of his was just to make her attuned enough to this armor, what about after she donned it?

How would she stand beside Shepard if this were her?

"This is what you want to do to me?"

"No, it was for someone else, but jerking your hopes around amuses me." Cortana responded blithely.

_Yeah, yeah. The dead probably saw that one coming. _Ashley shook her head. "So… is this something you cooked up or it something from where you came from?"

"It's a UNSC special warfare package." Cortana replied. "This system is more mixed and matched then their's was; the components being used here are more advanced, but the thyroid implant is diluted in its effect from what the original model did, but I was going with idea most people wouldn't want to be 6'6" with their sex drive on ice."

"But some still chose to do it?"

"As much choice as conscripts got." Ashley heard Cortana's voice go hollow. "They were exactly what we needed, exactly when we needed them most. But they were greatest even without the Augmentation."

"All of this would be a message to the Alliance that it needs to stop messing about with gene therapy that needs a year to take and institute something that gives more, with immediate and drastic effect, without pulling on the treasury's purse strings any harder."

Ashley put the sidearm down and walked over to armor, feeling its heft as she pulled the helmet off. She gave a quick inspection to the visor and the composite of the neck seal, and estimated the girth of the armor's under suit. Something didn't add up in its measurement.

"I'd have to wear this thing naked, wouldn't I?" Ashley grinned.

"You would."

"Nice. And when nature calls?"

"Some appropriately located tubing in the suit's pelvic lining, a fecal processing system under the left thigh plating, and then jettisoned through an access on your heel once you have a discreet moment."

Ashley grinned again as she put the helmet back on its post. "Where are the specs for the weapons and armor?"

"In the 'Get Well Soon' card you'd receive after Augmentation." Cortana not missing a beat.

"And from the contact points on the sidearm, these guns won't fire unless it's powered by the armor?"

"Two for two, Chief Williams."

"Augmentation." Ashley thought aloud. "Am I going to stay me, or just a glorified automaton made in the name of humanity's defense?"

"Augmentation can only multiply the soldier it starts with, it can never make one." Cortana watched Ashley pace back and forth. "And "staying you" is a pivotal feature of this process; besides their primary functions, the cortical implant and nervous system wiring have both been built to annul the effects of Indoctrination."

Ashley wasn't one for indecisiveness or cold feet, but neither was she foolhardy. But what would she be if she agreed to this? What about all the pain, all the stigma, and the countless hours of toil she _chose _to endure to make herself what she is and do what she does in a sea of people trying to do the same.

Was this cheating herself out of who she might be otherwise?

"Just tell me this isn't Shepard pulling favors. That this is straight up how it would happen for any other candidate." Ashley crossed her arms as she spoke. "Hell, _convince _me this isn't the skipper's idea and you would have picked me yourself."

"See for yourself, Chief Williams." Cortana put Ashley's profile up on the screen. "You'll find it's a bit more then technical scores and nepotism."

Ashley saw personality splayed out on the wall, an inventory of traits and displays of tactical judgment

In order of importance, like proximity of herself to teammates during her, enemy dead, and dozens of secondary factors.

"Anybody can massage the numbers their way, but this is what sold you." Cortana scrolled the screen down to a flashing line of text.

'The candidate's mindset has uncharacteristic tenacity that is unhampered by setback or personal lose, but is in fact these events (ref Unit 212, Normandy Destruction and Horizon Expedition) that pre-dated several career highlights in both accomplishment and accolade. The nature of the judgment she displays during these periods is indicative of both a secure identity and belief in a higher power that precludes death being the cessation of the bonds she has developed with her professional and personal relationships; her capacity to handle death and deprivation while maintaining control and focus remains one of her strongest traits.'

"Why are you doing this?" Ashley spoke after finishing the profile. "I defer to Shepard's moral compass when shit gets fuzzy, and that's fine, but I want to hear what your take in this is first."

"This the best option for our forces to bring the best fight they can to Tuchanka and beyond, and for personal survival…"

"You're not hearing me." Ashley leaned on Cortana's pedestal and looked down on the reposed figure. "What is _your_ stake in this? Shepard says you were pretty hot shit in 'defending humanity' on your side of the line, so why so eager to hand over their hard won work for us?"

Cortana returned her gaze as for a moment before her eyes fell to the emitter. "The humanity I was built to protect is safe now, albeit after 25 years of war, 3 billion marines, and 32 billion civilians lost. I have debts to repay there, but I am here instead. I can at least try to spare this humanity the sacrifice mine has already made."

"Well… alright then." Ashley spoke. "At this point, I figure you knew I'd volunteer for this before I got here; I also imagine making this happen before deployment means that is going to happen right about… _now_. So give me who, where, what, how, when of how this is going to happen. And then you're going to show me this 'super conscript' you're doing this for."

Cortana's eyes locked on Ashley's as the tension in the air thickened.

"I mean one of them was you're buddy, weren't they?"

Cortana smiled to herself as she gave the sergeant a pause for dramatic effect. True, she'd let her feelings out without her being aware, but it was time to play the fool right now.

It was time to let the person going under the scalpel to feel like they had the upper hand.

Cortana simply nodded her head to the wall display, now with her Spartan's profile taking shape beside Ashley's layout for comparison.

_Nothing was disappointing her here._ Ashley gave a soft whistle.

Just standing there, he was imposing, but it wasn't size alone doing it. His poised screamed that he'd done and seen what few have even dreamed of, and of unshakable confidence… he absolutely knew who he was.

Some comparable features of Cortana's prototype armor to his, only her suit was more form fitting and her helmet didn't have a full visor, only a viewing slot.

"He probably scared the Be Jesus out of his own guys as bad as he did the enemy. I mean just look at him, there was no hiding what he was." Ashley thought aloud.

"True. And do you think you can handle that? Alarms blaring at every metal detector you'll ever walk through, everyone expecting that you're Frankenstein's monster?" Cortana kept walking Ashley through the last leg of her decision. "And this trial will decide if Augmentation becomes mainstream. "

"Your Augmentation can be snuck in under the radar because it can be dressed up as a 'proof of concept' for the medical experts to help them make a decision. However, you might have noticed that Urdnot Wrex is already deploying my new tanks on Tuchanka in force? Arcturus hasn't even decided on where to begin the trials. We can't count on Alliance brass to work within the same timetable as this war or the Reapers."

"Yeah, I hear you. I'm reading between the lines too. Counting on a Williams to put humanity first and not give a shit about people looking at them sideways?" Ashley laughed at her own insight. "So what do I have to do from here?"

"Just walk to the elevator. Director Lawson and Dr Chakwas have made preparations and are waiting in the hangar with the medical team. They'll talk you through the timetable and post-surgery drills. And… you'll have to have your head shaved once you get there." Cortana replied with a smile.

"The Bitch is involved too, huh? Well, I guess her masterminding Shepard's resurrection puts me in the best hands." Ashley feeling a white-hot ripples rising through her body as she walked to the door, the anticipation bubbling in her veins.

"Hey, wait a minute. Why wasn't Shepard first on your list?" Ashley spun on her heel just as the door opened.

"It's in the works, but there a lot of cybernetics to be removed piece by piece while keeping her fit enough for deployment. So, you'll be the next evolution in soldiering for a few months at least." Cortana smiled coyly. "Enjoy it while it lasts. If you do what we all know you can, we'll be up to our eyeballs in Augmentees within the year."

Ashley returned the grin and turned the corner, keeping her face stoic as she walked through the CIC to the elevator, eyes darting person to person as her mind began to spin.

_Did any of them know this was going to happen? Oh, what the hell is this? What am I am doing? I'm supposed to be getting my shit back and going to kick more asses right now, not this. Shit! Yeah, yeah, I'll bet everybody with a bug up his or her ass about me is probably screaming bloody murder about me trying to duck out of combat, too. Oh, let's not forget about Joker, I can already hear him deflect all the shit he put Shepard through once he gets a load of this, "This is the Normandy, why settle for one freak when you can get another one to volunteer for it? Ha fucking Ha!" And all of this is some concoction of some fucking uber-AI from another dimension? JESUS CHRIST! Just what is her problem, she's a bloody beam of light and she won't even stand up? Ugh, snooty little empress can't be bothered to have some respect for the meat sacks she's pretending to save. _Ashley's mind was screaming as she arrived at the hangar, but her finger hit the 'hold' button before the elevator doors opened.

_Do it. _She took her finger off the button with a growl._ Just soldier the fuck up and __**DO IT!**_

Ashley took a deep breathe as she walked though the door, her imagination and reality crashing into each other as she saw what was waiting for her. The entire starboard side was covered with an Alliance surgical shelter, walls of sterile glass and floors criss-crossed with power cables; the inner chamber behind that was full of ceiling mounted equipment, all hanging down like metal tentacles.

Chakwas approached as Ashley watched the medics scurrying behind the glass walls, some pushing the last of the equipment tables into place, while some tended to the surgeons in the prep area.

"Ashley, we've been expecting you. I do apologize for this atrociously inadequate setup, I'd hoped for a surgical centre in Arcturus Minor instead, but it seems the Director had some opposing thoughts on that." Chakwas placed a hand on Ashley's arm as they walked into the shelter's sterilization section.

"Ma'am?" A female medic called her name, timidly standing beside the decontamination sinks with an electric shaver in her hand. Ashley smirked as she pulled the pins from her hair and enjoyed a few seconds of it brushing against her shoulder before giving the medic the nod.

"Chief Williams, just listen while you're being prepped. I trust you understand bringing a project like this to our primary command facility over Tuchanka would be less then covert, and that's exactly why everything we need has been brought to you." Miranda's voiced poured through the intercom as Ashley felt the first tufts of hair fall to the floor.

"You'll be put under for the surgery and that's they way you'll stay for the next four days; the entire time you'll be fed a cocktail of whey isolate protein and vitamin water while your body adapts. From consciousness until deployment you'll be weaned off your sedatives slowly while your body adjusts to the upgrades, we'll risk you damaging yourself or the armor otherwise."

"Dr Chakwas won't be participating directly, but was adamant about being here for the duration." Miranda continued as the medic flicked away the last few strands from Ashley's tunic. Ashley ran her hands over her freshly shaved scalp, letting the image sink in with a leery look before turning to the operating room. "Don't think of this as handholding, she'll simply be observing any measures we might take for injury treatment once Augmented members begin entering service in number."

Ashley kicked off her boots into a storage bin while an orderly laid a medical gown on the counter. Her shirt and bra flopped to the floor in one movement, her pants and underwear joined them the next second; the orderlies paused at the unashamed spectacle of her single-mindedness in what was a thorny display for most; Chakwas only laughed softly as Ashley turned to the operating room without an escort.

Brushing the sterile fabric of the surgery door aside, Ashley finally arrived at the operating room, and what she saw gave her pause.

The shelter's commonality and proper etiquette of the staff had been stripping away any images of a mad scientist's lair, but the centerpiece of the operating room stripped all of that comfort away in a glimpse. A device that looked more like a coffin then a surgeon's table stood there upright, bundles of wires and hoses hanging off it. This topped off by the syringes hanging from a cluster of hydraulic arms overhead, each paired to a vial of liquid metal at its base for the bone reinforcement.

The dozen and more staff turned from their stations as she stepped forward, while Miranda and the visiting specialists behind the observation window overhead stopped fussing with their notes and focused on what was about to transpire.

Everybody was a 'new guy' here, Ashley realized as she stepped up to the operating table, even the best specialist in each field they represented had never done something like this before; and likely that most were looking to pad their resume as an attaché to the military then concerning themselves with the subject herself.

Ashley felt the table chocks glide into position as she backed into its cold surface, setting her body into position for when the mechanized arms began their work; time saver though they were, they required the patient be secured well enough not to move mid-procedure.

The table began to tilt backwards once the chocks had locked into place; the glare of the overhead lights stung her eyes as the table clicked into position. Ashley felt a breathing mask cover her nose and mouth as a nurse told her to breathe in and out deeply, the clatter of equipment tables and voices giving direction were all around her as senses began to dull.

Only a warm hand on Ashley's shoulder stood out from the commotion around her, somewhere in the last few seconds of consciousness and feeling the monitor feeds pushed under her skin.

All she could see of whose hand it was were a pair of eyes above a surgical mask, somehow maternal and professional, doting and distant. Chakwas was here.

Then the anesthetic finally closed her eyes.

* * *

It was the sound of her own breathing she sensed first, followed by the obstruction in her throat as she tried to swallow.

Ashley's eyes shot open as she began to choke, unable to feel her limbs as she scrambled to breathe.

"Ashley? Ashley! You must calm down! Quickly, hold her head!" Ashley heard Chakwas's voice above her as two strong hands held her head. She held her panic back as the voices and names of those around her sunk in.

"Alright… alright, here we go." Chakwas voice back to its usual calm as Ashley felt the airline leave her windpipe. "Now, get her on her side."

The mystery hands released her head and rolled her over as Chakwas swept the last of the goo from Ashley's mouth with her fingers, beckoning a coughing fit as the dried flecks of liquid protein dislodged from the back of her throat.

"Well, Commander, it seems Chief Williams has had enough of her supplements. Wouldn't you agree?" Chakwas shined her pen light into Ashley's eyes to check pupil dilation. Ashley felt relief at the doc's putting a professional title in her name again. That was code for 'the patients well enough not be fawned over anymore'.

Ashley felt the fabric and buoyancy of the bed beneath her on her face. She was on a cushioned bed? Why wasn't she still in the infirmary for observation?

Her eyes darted all over as she loosed the last of the buildup in her throat. An aquarium, a work desk, and resting on a queen sized mattress… Shepard's bed? And why couldn't she move?

The mystery hands rolled Ashley on her back as the coughing stopped, revealing Shepard lying on her own side of the bed, looking down on her marine with a light-hearted smile. Yeah, being here for recovery was definitely the skipper's style.

"Check this, Ash. Two inches wide, two and a half feet long and feeding you all the protein you need." Shepard held up the freshly removed feeding tube with a shit-eating grin. "Because this kind of reminds me of my prom night."

"Commander, Director Lawson is on her way up. Perhaps some clothing before we try to get Williams on her feet?" Chakwas looked up from her omni with a stern voice. "Welcome back, Chief Williams. It is now Thursday at 0100 hrs Tuchankan time; you've been asleep you're the full four days and I am pleased to inform you that all the feedback we've gathered points overwhelmingly to the positive. We're just waiting on the Director before we can administer any stimulants."

Shepard slipped from beneath sheets and reached for her N7 sweats on the chair, not bothering with underwear or socks, as usual. Ashley had been able to accept the nudity her surgery had required of her, while Shepard wouldn't suffer any outfit too stuffy between missions, if any outfit at all, if she was in quarters.

But Ashley was becoming much more empathetic to that desire as she began to feel the compression suit. It may have been a plastic body wrap to aid healing, but right now the squishing of its medicinal salve and the prick of the electrodes dug into her muscles were straining her peace of mind.

"Dr Chakwas, let's try a 30% solution until she gets a feel for the upgrades." Miranda spoke the moment she stepped into the cabin. "We'll let walk around the quarters for today to see what the numbers say, tomorrow will be the first armor trial."

"Good evening, Director. I feel fine, really. It means the world that you asked." Ashley's voiced dripped sarcasm as Miranda eyed Ashley's wrist dispenser.

"If I ever want your feedback, Chief Williams, I'll give you a promotion." Miranda didn't bat an eyelash. Short thought to realize nothing was going to chance so long as Miranda was in charge.

"Chief Williams, just grab my shoulders. It's time we got you back on your feet." Dr Chakwas pulled the covers back and rolled Ashley into a sitting position. "And the Commander has the mess on standby in case you wanted something to eat afterwards. No concerns other then eating and getting some rest for you."

"Look who's talking, Doc." Ashley slurred as they started towards the shower, the older woman displaying her experience in hauling around half-paralyzed marines with poise and some very tired eyes.

Chakwas gently sat her on the shower bench and started to peel away at the compression suit. Pulling each section off at the neck and working her way down, only stopping to pull out the electric probes sticking into her muscle tissue, these little rods were insurance that the designer nervous system they had just sewn into her would reach every muscular filament.

"I'll leave you to your shower, Chief Williams. But I'll be right outside the door if you need anything." Chakwas took her leave, leaving Ashley alone for the first time in days.

Her senses were coming alive now, overloading her with the pain of muscle and flesh still on the mend, and the twitching of nerves as she sat there nude and coated in medical gel. She could feel the punishing mix of muscular inhibitors and the thinning painkillers in her blood stream, letting her additional pieces pinch her insides while her limbs remained dead weight.

Ashley closed her eyes and slumped against the cold shower wall. _Jesus, what have I done? How am I supposed to fight like this in just four days? I can barely fucking stand and any cuts are going to rip open if I try to bend or twist. _

This soon after a major surgery, how could she have thought that something like this was going to work? Did she even ask? No.

"Chief Williams, delay your shower for a moment. Try Cortana's 'care package' beside the sink before you hit the water, it'll download all the coding the implant will need to interpret your nervous system synapses; any adjustments can be calibrated for you once you've finished your shower."

As much as everyone hated Miranda's nitpicking, what everyone hated worse was her always being right.

With a groan, Ashley pushed herself off the bench, stepping short of the sink before turning to the mirror above it. After a pause and a deep breath, she finally turned to the glass and faced herself as an Augmentee for the first time.

First impressions were… promising.

After expecting a hundred cut lines and bruising a zombie would appreciate, the few scabs and the blood in the whites of her eyes seemed trivial, even the swelling and bruises of her old injury were gone. And her frame! The new girth of her ribs and pelvis gave her an hourglass figure that was almost mutant. And for muscles, their new size matched their deep striations.

She felt the hardness of her bones as her hands ran over her face, seeing the prominence in her jaw and cheekbones, even the muscles of her face moved with more power. Everything seemed her, just more protuberant and exaggerated.

Ashley turned sideways for a final check, and loosed a surprised chortle at her new profile.

_Hmm… perky. _Ashley smiled at her new contours, seeing the whole body lift the Augmentation had delivered. _A little something for everyone, front and back… oh, right, the cortical implants._

Ashley picked up the junction key off the counter, sliding the paper-thin connector into the slot at the top of her neck. And as it connected, she felt… nothing? Wasn't she supposed to feel a chill run down her spine or something?

"Ugh, Director? I'm not getting anything here."

"What's 12 345 times 67 890, Chief Williams?"

"838 102 050."

"Then it's working."

Ashley blinked at what she'd just done. "I don't recall anything about my grey matter getting tweaked here, Director."

"It wasn't. That was the implant working, added to make precision calculation no matter the stress level involved. Also, your weapons and armor stats are in there as well, just think 'Laconic armor' and "Proteus small arms'. We'll be covering that and the advanced features this evening."

_Advanced features? Nice. _Ashley grinned at that thought as she turned to the shower.

Just hearing Miranda speak those weapon titles had flashed every specification and nuance that gear possessed like a fresh memory. And what her mind's eye showed her was amazing. Armor that was a hyper-reactive strength adjunct and a contoured shield envelopment rated for heavy armor? Shape shifting weaponry that spat metal and plasma at relativistic speeds?

And right now she was the only one capable wielding either of them.

Besides not being able to stand the woman personally, she did have to tip her hat to the Director this time. But Miranda's part in this would be over soon, as least far as the trial Augmentation was concerned; making sure that these upgrades were used to their greatest value would be on Ashley's shoulders in just four more days.

Measured against trying to get an entire universe ready against the Reapers, modeling upgrades for the Directorate and the admirals to carp over was pretty lightweight.

_Well… bring it. _Ashley's smile doubled. This was hers to own, and she wouldn't be lacking.

_Just bring it._


	12. Teamwork

Halo belongs to 343 Industries and Mass Effect belongs to BioWare.

* * *

Whether to just shoot the guy, tech him, or come up with something more colourful was usually as far as his thoughts went for slavers and criminals, not the why and when they did what they were doing, but the chatter amongst the Quarians was beginning to make a certain kind of sense as Garrus watched them scurrying around the growing salvage piles.

Chatter about how they had recently outstripped humans as the most sought after slave pool.

Some Batarian big shot, known only as Domo, had somehow clawed his way to the top of the Hegemony's biggest unofficial business and had left ideology and caste concerns behind.

The often out-dated, salvaged, and unregistered nature of the ships and technology used in the Terminus made most Council engineers useless, but Quarians were another matter.

As Garrus watched them in action, it was easy to see the cold, hard reality of Domo's new direction. The downed Kowloon freighter they'd found on this frozen, backwater planet was being fileted in front of him with no heavy equipment at all, just a thousand precise swipes from a handful of omni-tools and tool carts.

At night, in the midst of a snow fall and just a handful of flood lights to illuminate their work, it was all coming together at a speed any Turian engineer would be impressed by.

That this old space crate was already pillaged from years earlier hadn't fazed the them as they set to work, and their sensibility was growing more and more apparent as the piles of wiring, insulation, and every other component became larger and larger. This _was_ currency in the Terminus, with its monetary and exchange system as adhoc as everything else in its unregulated glory.

"Beautiful sight, huh?" Kal' Reegar stepped up beside Garrus, taking a quick break from his perimeter patrol. "Give them another hour, even the superstructure will be in bite sized pieces."

"And it's not just what they're doing, but how they're going about it. They don't have to say anything to each other to work." Garrus shifted his weapon to his other hand as he tried to flex the cold out of his talons. "With what I've been hearing, working on Anvil isn't much more dangerous for the Quarians then any other trip into the Terminus lately."

"Yeah, you heard right. Raids on the patrolling craft, or people just not returning from their Pilgrimage, we've lost more people in the last seven months then in the last fourteen years. First time in our history that it's been encouraged to do your Pilgrimage in a group. And then the whole Flotilla is sandwiched between the Attican Traverse and Outer Council space hoping that the Heavy Fleet mixed with the Council patrols will keep everyone but the craziest away." Kal' Reegar was happy to find a sympathetic ear, but the conversation would have to wait as both their two-ways crackled to life.

"Vakarian, Garrus. Nine unidentified aircraft inbound to your position, and a further eight inbound to the second salvage area. ETA three minutes." Legion's modulator clicked in, breaking his radio silence from his mountain-top over watch to the south. "Local air support insufficient to defend dual locations. Ascension notified and sending support. ETA for Kodiaks seven minutes."

"This is Kal' Reegar to all teams, rendezvous inside the Kowloon in one minute, we have raiders inbound!" Kal' Reegar wasted no time getting his people to safety. "Team Bravo, what's your situation?"

"I'm moving everyone to a nearby rock formation, but it won't be enough against an air assault!" Tali replied. "Requesting air support for Bravo's location!"

Garrus pulled Legion's input up on his omni. Positioning him as an over-watch wasn't exactly welcoming him into the fold, but he was a perfect specimen for the task.

"Garrus?" Kal' Reegar looked to him as they both waved the salvage teams into the wreck; the air coordination for their four gunships had been left to him… and two Quarians trying to avoid another Haestrom. "How in the hell did Tin Can know they were coming before us?"

"Legion, direct our gunships to the second location and set up a firebase to give us cover. Inbound Kodiaks to remain at 10 000 feet until situation is resolved. All units report in once you're in place. Somebody get those flood lights turned off!"

Garrus adjusted his eye piece as they last two Quarians scurried behind the Kowloon's bulkhead. Seeing where all the friendlies would take a back seat to getting a read on the gunships' status.

Reegar and his marines would be a match for most enemies in close quarters, but not in wide open spaces without any heavy weaponry. Tali and her detachment were in the same boat. Even with the asari air support the odds were against them.

"Alpha and Bravo teams, with is Ai'shee Val of Third Escort, we're holding at 10 000 feet and… uhm…" the Asari helmsman fumbled on her words over the radio. "and reporting that the Master Chief made his way onboard and is offering assistance."

_Damn it… if we had just brought him planet side. And why isn't Jay'em with him?_ Garrus grumbled.

"Remain there; it's not safe for a ground deployment. What's the ETA on getting more gunships?" Garrus replied.

"Scrambling now. Perhaps fifteen minutes."

"Do they know we're going to be dead in ten minutes?" Reegar chimed in.

"We'll hold out the best we can. Everyone to positions." Garrus keeping his voice calm. "Reegar, get everyone to shore up every opening and hatch other than the port side entrance. They'll channel themselves trying to get in or break people off the assault to make a breach."

"Ain't that pounding nails into our own coffin? How are we supposed to get out if they open up with heavy weapons?"

"Nobody would attack scavengers hoping to score big on salvage… they're slavers. They won't shoot up their pay day. Expect krogan, or at least vorcha, on their assault team."

The krogan and vorcha were the only species strong enough, or stupid enough, to go close quarters like this with an enemy for cheap; killing an opponent is a breeze compared to capturing him.

Reegar started barking orders as Garrus walked back to the Kowloon's hatch, his monocle painting a picture of the dark inside; Quarian marines lining the walkway with weapons at the ready, individual shield and health tags projecting each soldier's vitae in Garrus's HUD… and all their hearts were racing.

This was the only line of defense they had for the fifty salvagers tucked behind the secondary door; A Spectre candidate, a Quarian team leader and twelve of his marines, and a next generation Geth providing cover in the cliffs to the south.

Come to think of it, this would've made for a wicked public relations vid.

Garrus looked into the swirl of the snow from their make shift bunker as Kal Reegar finally stepped inside, and the team leader wasted no time walking the black corridor, slapping shoulders and talking bravado.

Not something seasoned fighters would need, but for a bunch of greenhorns away from the Fleet for the first time, it was just what was needed.

Small dots of light began to shine behind the wall of snowfall, the dim flickering of their search lights becoming more and more pronounced as the gunships sped forward, the scream of their engines finally piercing the storm's wind as they closed in.

"Engaging." Legion's voice clicked in a heartbeat before a gunship's search light jerked violently to the right, the blue flash shining off its hull betraying Legion's use of phasic ammunition to strip away their shielding.

Two thruster sets erupted into an after-burn instantly, powering two gunships away from their flight group to deal with this unseen threat, their jet wash shaking the Kowloon as they tore overhead and into the cliffs.

"Good work, Tin Can." Reegar chuckled into his radio.

Garrus might have smiled at the comment if the other seven ships weren't inbound, five of which were now forming into an extended line in front of the others. Five gunships for cover fire, two troop transports in echelon. By the Spirits, he wanted to see more than just their search lights out in the snowfall. Just knowing the ships' make and dimensions would give him a chance to estimate their troop capacity and fire power, and by default a rough guess on their tactics.

"Get ready for it!" Garrus yelled down the hallway as the first search light shone directly on the entry hatch.

The high pitched trill of high velocity shards chewing away at the hull and crashing into the hatch floor drowned out any other sound and the Quarians pushed themselves even harder against the bulk head, with only Kal' Reegar standing beside Garrus, feigning indifference to hail of gunfire .

Garrus wasn't seeing the damage from these rounds that he knew they could produce; the gunship was using reduced shells to keep this suppressing fire from killing anyone.

"Alright boys, the moment his fire stops, they're gonna be all over us! Shotguns up front, rifles behind, MOVE!" Reegar's orders barely making it through the squeal of pelted metal around them.

Garrus felt the click-click-click of his HWSR unfurl as he set his thermal clips up to the left of the door for his rifle. Any book on CQB doctrine would decry mixing assault and sniper rifles and say to bring out the shotguns, but that's not how he worked.

His fine motor skills would go out the door like everyone else's if he just shoved an area weapon at an enemy and pulled the trigger… sizing up the attackers, making each shot count, and make each of those shots land exactly where they were needed is how his situational awareness stayed perfect. Each shot was a thought, not a reaction.

The last shell sounded on the hull in time to meet the ascending screams of vorcha charging towards them, their shadows finally breaking the spotlight as they reached the door.

The thump of Garrus's high explosive shell sent a ripple of pressure through entire hallway as the vorcha it had struck flew backwards in chunks and knocked his clan brothers backwards, the assault's momentum faltering slowly as the next group tried stepping around the first assault wave.

"Suppressing fire!" Kal' Reegar stepped full in to the entry hatch as he and his marines opened up, the chk-chk-boom of their shotguns either returning a cry of pain or silencing one. Garrus slid his own rifle into the fray and put several bursts into a pair of pyros bringing up the rear, his monocle painting their silhouettes against the still blinding spot light.

The flickering of impacted eezo fields fluttered to life as the gunship opened up on the Quarians, trying to clear the entrance as the vorcha withdrew. Garrus pulled Kal' Reegar to his side of the entrance as the marines darted to the other side. Their shields were reduced but they were unharmed from what their tags were signalling.

"This was a recon by attack, gentlemen. The real meat's gonna be in the next wave, so fresh clips in all fired weapons." Garrus popping a new clip himself as the wall of bullets kept coming through the hatch inches from his busy talons.

_No armour, shields, or covering fire; obviously rookies cutting their teeth to impress the boss. One look at those vorcha's injuries they'll know our weapon mods and any specialty ammo… and the only one I hit with the HE shot is a guaranteed kill… and even the ones injured won't be for long and they aren't a tactical asset to an experienced group of raiders. _Garrus rolled the situation through his head as the marines returned to their start positions.

This was just beginning.

The hail of bullets stopped cold. Every soldier squeezed the butt of their weaponry into their shoulder a little harder as they waited for the cascade of raiders to hit the door, each weapon barrel levelled at the entry… for nothing to happen.

The spotlight was still directed at the door, but there was no rush of troops or cover fire. Were they trying to lure them out? Was the next team in the line of fire?

The hollow 'thump' of a low velocity slug being fired sounded outside, and the question of what was happening was answered as a fat projectile clumsily banged through the door and began discharging aerosol.

"Thermobaric!" Garrus yelled as he charged towards the marines with Kal' Reegar. He knew they'd have no idea what was coming.

The aerosol transformed into white light as it ignited, knocking the entire team backwards as the pressure wave ripped down the hallway as each wisp of chemical in the air ignited. Even as he crashed backwards Garrus could feel its heat pop his shielding and singe his scales through all his insulated layers.

Garrus flopped on his back as the flash burn sunk deeper into his flesh, hearing the screams of Quarians as they rolled on the ground, their face plating now molten shards burned into their faces. The curse of them only excelling at star side combat had undone them again; no one would dare us a high pressure-wave weapon in a ship's vacuum-sealed environment, so no hope of them knowing how to counter for one.

Where had his weapons gone? He felt around on the floor for them, but was only finding debris and random equipment pieces from the marines.

He had hoped to cover the Quarians when he dove on them, but he feared he might have done them more harm than good as he looked up from where he had landed. Just as the vorcha that had taken the HE shot, he had just been blown over the entire detachment and landed behind them, knocking over the marines the pressure wave hadn't.

"Marines! Sound off!" Kal' Reegar yelled while still huddled on the floor. He'd been thrown just as far as Garrus, and trying to gather himself as he checked his omni for his squad's status, the smoke filled hallway denying him any visual confirmation.

At least he'd stopped the heat wave from reach some of them, but the pain and blur of Garrus's eyes made him feel the price he had just paid for it.

Precision shooting was out of the question now, with these flash burned eyes of his. The pressure wave wasn't affecting his aural diaphragm as much as it would a human with their easily burst eardrums, and he thanked the spirits for that as he heard the unmistakable rumble of krogan boots shuffling on the metal floor.

"On your feet soldiers! ON YOUR FEET!" Kal' Reegar yelled as he dragged himself off the floor with help of a wall support. "THEY'RE COMING FOR YOU!"

It was too late as the first marines were dragged away, most unaware of their predicament in the haze of the bomb's over-pressure and their shrapnel peppered faces. One marine dared to stand up in the dissipating haze and was instantly knocked back down by a concussive shot, the two krogan providing cover for the seizing party still making sure unnecessary casualties didn't cut into their profits.

"HEY! OVER HERE!" Kal' Reegar pulled his boot knife and marched towards one of the krogan in front of him. "Put the toy down and show me what you got, _HUMP_! YOU'RE MINE!"

Kal' Reegar was unarmed and as dazed as the rest of men still writhing on the floor, but his stride betrayed no hesitation as he closed with the krogan. That was certainly _one_ way of buying his marines time to rally themselves.

But neither was there hesitation from his adversary as he tossed his shotgun aside with a laugh.

Swatting off his partner's attempt to grab him, the seven hundred pounds of krogan let the blood rage consume him as he tore head long at the Quarian upstart to his front, only to have his targeted pushed aside and have a turian standing in its place.

Garrus let the rampaging reptile catch him square in the chest as his talons grabbed the top of its helmet while his heel struck the krogan's right knee, their backward momentum instantly crashing into the ground.

The krogan's massive bulk caught on the pivot Garrus had made of his helmet as they tumbled over completely. Garrus kicked himself backwards as the omni-blade slid out of his gauntlet's micro-fabricator; its nanometer width slicing into the krogan's neck coiling easily as the two of them finally skidded to a halt. And with one twist, the minute incision began gushing orange blood and spinal fluid as Garrus pushed himself off his paralyzed quarry.

"And… that _still_ hurt." Garrus feeling his ribs scream in pain. He knew his plate armour had more integrity then Kal' Reegar's composite suit, but getting steamrolled doing this was inevitable.

Two snarls sounded from the entrance and then they quickly clamoured towards him, the remaining krogan steeping aside as his two pets sped forward to handle this problem for him without any more personal risk… varren.

Well trained varren, besides, as the first of them clamped its dripping teeth onto his right gauntlet as the second one bit into his left calf. Shooting hand pinned, and the second creature clutching on the opposing leg to keep him unbalanced. Classic neutralization; all that krogan had to do now was walk up and use a stun baton.

Garrus's free hand skittered over the ground for anything to gouge in the varren's eye, feeling the press-studs of his under suit crack as the varrens' torque popped the suit's framework from the hard shell. It would be his own tendons being ripped if he couldn't get at least one of them off shortly.

Garrus saw a blurry outline clamour besides him as a marine went for the varren holding his arm.

A wide Quarian thumb shot into the varren's nostril and twisted, tilting the animal's head just enough to one side to squeeze a shotgun between its teeth.

"EAT THIS!" The marine screamed as he pulled the trigger, a plume of orange blood spraying from the back of the varren's head instantly.

Another marine was one his feet and feeding shot after shot into the second varren with his sidearm as it dragged Garrus down the hallway, unaware of just how much damage a varren's folded hide could withstand. A carnage burst ripped into its head as the first marine shifted fire, his experience dealing with these beasts clear as the shot landed under the varren's neck flap.

Garrus pulled his blood-splattered foot from out of its mouth and got to his feet, feeling his torso plating shift as it hung from the handful of fastening points left.

"Reegar? How many?" Garrus picked up an abandoned assault rifle as he limped towards the entrance, intent on letting the raiders know there was still some bite left in this squad. "How many?"

"Seven… they got seven. With what's left, three are down with facial trauma and probably infection in a few more minutes. My last two can at least pull a trigger while we're waiting on air support." Kal' Reegar sluggishly made his way to Garrus at the entrance. "Injured will go back in the hold with the salvage team once they get first-aid, and we'll stagger my last two down the hall if anyone gets past us."

"Just like old times." Garrus muttered as he tried to raise Tali on the radio. "The second group of slavers must be jamming the second sight, Third Escort. Any means to break through it on your end? Or can you even give us a sitrep?"

"Windfire Wing reports they're keeping the slaver gunships at bay but the troop transports broke off and are on a heading of 2-7-0."

"Then they're heading for us! Tell the Ascension to scramble any craft available for a star-side intercept! They're going to do a cut-and-run here while Windfire is held up at Tali's position! What about reinforcements?"

"Still ten minutes out. I'm sorry!"

The painfully familiar scream of the gunship firing on the hull cut the conversation away as Garrus and Reegar took shot to either side of the entrance.

A horrified scream from the shuttle pilot pierced the gunship's prattle on the bulkhead.

"HE JUMPED!"

"What? Who are to talking about?" Reegar finally losing his patience. "We don't have time for that shit! Tell whoever to sit the hell down and then you focus on getting us that damn…"

"No! Out of the shuttle! The Master Chief _jumped_ out of the _shuttle_!"

"Who the hell gave you permission to land?! We can't risk losing anymore…"

"We're still at 10 000 feet, for Goddess sake!"

All the weapon noise went mute to Garrus as the pilot's words sunk in.

Jumped? Why? After everything that had been poured into him… after seeing just a sliver of what he was capable of. Gone. With everyone left behind still so eager to see what was to come.

"Jay'em will cry." Garrus spoke, though mostly to himself.

"Keelah… that fucking sucks." Reegar spoke his own rough sentiment. "Come on, Garrus. Keep our heads in this fight."

Garrus nodded his agreement as he turned back to the port hatch. Shuffling all their captives back to the transport ships had cost the raiders time they needed to regroup, but the landing lights for the second set of transports now flashed in Garrus's monocle, ready with fresh troops ready to take over the second attack.

_This is it._ Garrus thought as the gunfire shifted from the hull and back unto the entrance. There'd be a fresh horde of slavers the moment the shooting stopped.

At least it was about to, just…

The searchlight and gunfire both jerked downward from their hover point, their luminescence and devastation now crashing down on the newly arrived slavers just about to make their assault, caught in the gunship's unintended fire as it thrashed about in the air.

It was swirling about with its nose pointed down, but couldn't right itself long enough to regain control as it looped drunkenly over the salvage field, its nose turret still blazing. As it drifted over the Kowloon, its flight path finally steadied and stopped, its thrusters still vectoring spastically to keep itself from falling out of the sky.

"What the hell's happening, Garrus? Did another ship hit it or something?" Reegar chanced a quick look out the hatch at the new chaos.

"I'd have spotted something that big. Maybe it just lost its lateral stabilizers when…" Garrus's words ended as the gunship's shattered canopy smashed into frozen ground before him, its shatter-resistant envelope now crumpled from a huge impact point.

The question of what was happening only deepened as the yells of the Batarian pilot came from above, audible for a half second from it being heard over the gunship to the crunch of his body off the ground.

The snowy air turned brilliant yellow and orange as the rabid gunship finally asserted itself, launching its entire missile battery in one burst. The field was now a kaleidoscope of criss-crossing shadows and explosive plumes as the four remaining gunships exploded from the salvo, the Batarians and krogan raiders now caught in the open field with no cover as the burning gunship hulks crashed all around.

"Vakarian, Garrus. Both gunships abandoning search for this platform and returning to your position." Legion's updated as the rogue gunship flew over the Kowloon to counter them. "Recommend any tactical options be exercised while enemy air cover is compromised."

"Hell, yeah! You two hold the door!" Reegar called to his men as he stepped off, eager to seize the initiative. Garrus followed as they sprinted into the storm, knowing their small fire team would still trump the raider's larger numbers, now in total chaos from whatever possessed that gunship.

Garrus's torso plating flopped raggedly as he charged, pinching his shoulders as he brought the rifle up to fire on the raiders, popping up in ones and twos as they became visible through the snowy night.

He was quick to realize the raider teams hadn't been using those search lights just to blind their targets; the they had also been using them to see through this storm during their assault, and now they were floundering over the field lost, with most of their soldiers without their weapon at the ready when he and Reegar stormed into view and cut them down.

Twenty five seconds and fifteen enemy dead later, the snowfall in front of them stopped producing lost enemy soldiers and gave only empty field; they'd blown through the skirmish line and were behind the raiders now. Time to consolidate.

"What the hell, Garrus? Don't any of these idiots put a signaller out when they move outside their ship?"

"They won't do anything that makes their presence detectable to their target, not even an eezo source for shielding, if you hadn't noticed; it's the quickest, cheapest way to run a smash and grab." Garrus spun his omni's power up. "It also means they don't have any proper scans being run during an op, either. Let's go."

The captured marines were still on the ground, and they could reach them before the raiders sorted themselves out. A quick scan pulsed out from his omni, pinging across the field around like the sonar systems of old. Four large electrical networks just 150 meters away, two of which were still winding down their power output… the newly arrived transports from the other site. All four craft had killed their landing lights and engines upon landing to avoid fire, and had been in quiet vigil until now.

"Hey Tin Can, what's going on with that crazy gunship?" Reegar called over the comms as he and Garrus took a knee, taking a summary of the situation before their next move. "And then what's _your_ sitrep?"

"Currently providing counter fire for ally gun ship, it appears to be out of ammunition and manoeuvring to keep the last slaver gunship from your position. Addendum; now ally gunship is approaching slaver gunship at high velocity."

The 'whump' of the midair collision beyond the Kowloon rippled across the field with a small slap of high air pressure and a swirling gust of snow, the orange plume of ignited fuel filling their adhoc battlefield an eerily calm sun for just seconds. The nearest transport craft was given up by its canopy glare, the explosion's mushroom cloud reflected in its glass perfectly.

Time to move.

"Legion, provide fire support to targets of opportunity on the ground; prioritize moving personnel over those that are bunkered down." Garrus began making his way to the transport.

Trying to recover their men by process of elimination was going to make this even more dangerous as the raider captains clued in; the system of expendability that Hegemony steeped itself in guaranteed that whoever was running this op would be aboard and well out of harm's way, so any craft could be the one with a panic button at the ready.

The walk became a run and finally a sprint as the two soldiers flew towards the access ramp, like an open maw beneath the transport's cockpit. Only the emergency floor lighting snaked between the metal slats underfoot, just enough not to trip its occupants while too little to give its self away in the dark of night. Obviously a repurposed vehicle shuttle by the size of its loading bay, and now echoing the wind's howl and the clatter of Legion's heavy weapon fire as they finally reached the top of the ramp.

A quick summary of the bay's layout cut right to their approach to the cockpit's entrance, the usual civilian layout that put the command crew above and front of the bay so they could assess their crew and cargo at a glimpse. Each soldier took a personnel ramp as they ascended to the cockpit, the double entrance splitting around the cargo ramp and to the cockpit entrance above it.

Tight quarters. Sensitive flight instrumentation that would be destroyed in a spray-and –pray firefight.

Definitely Quarian turf they were stepping into.

Reegar closed the circuit on his shotgun's eezo core with the flick of safety, the power now redirected to the melee stunner fixed under the gun's muzzle. Garrus doubted he'd even have to pull a gun as he watched Reegar ignite his omni for the follow up attack. He readied his own omni for the door hack as the Quarian lined himself full on the cockpit door.

The sparks of the door hack caught the batarian flight crew unaware as the door crashed open, the navigator taking Reegar's flash bang in all four eyes as the Quarian's omni caught him full in the face. The eight eyes of pilot and co-pilot barely caught the sight of the intruder as his shotgun caught each of their bare heads in one swing, its strobing contact point sending them both into convulsions as the electrical current flashed through them and into the floor.

"Three seconds! Damn, I'm good!" Reegar dragged the navigator to his feet by the scruff of the neck. "Where are my men?!"

"Your men?" The now blind Batarian kept his eyes covered with his hands.

"The Quarian marines you just jacked! Which ship has them?!" Reegar shoving his shotgun's muzzle beneath the batarian's chin. "If you don't wanna talk, that's fine, 'cause I'll have two much more eager volunteers in about a minute when they wake up and find your brains decorating the cockpit!"

"It's… already too late. We've lost that ship." Reegar felt his heart burn from the batarian's cautious words.

"Lost? What do you mean lost?!" Reegar thumbed the safety off on his shotgun. "I swear if you're trying to play with my men's lives, I'm going rip your spine out of your ass and…"

"It's true! We don't know what's happening out there!" The batarian sputtered. "Just turn on the radio!"

Garrus turned his attention to the control panels, a throwback layout of switches and knobs with a barely discernible 3D rendering of the ship diagnostic. Complete with coffee stains and gauge markings worn down to the metal from constant use, it was a few tries before the speakers began blaring the sounds of chaos; crashing of gun fire and squad orders being screamed over hastily reactivated comms.

"Onto the last ship! Everyone gets onto the last ship!"

"RUN! RUN! RUN!"

"It's still coming!"

"Hold formation! I'll shoot you myself…" a squad leader's last words as a bullet thudded into his chest.

Garrus and Reegar looked up at each other. What was going on now? Did the Ascension send in a crew of commandos? A second raiding party now counter-attacking?

The staccato of muzzle flashes finally died out in the blur of snow outside, leaving the two soldiers to just listen the whistling of the wind and stewing in the mystery that had overrun this battle field.

"Maybe we should get that ramp closed and try to re-establish comms before whatever is out there decides to pay us a visit?" Reegar spoke as he pushed the navigator the floor with rest of the flight staff.

Garrus only stood in silence, his eyes blank as his monocle registered the vibration of heavy footfalls through the floor down to the ramp, distinct from the consistent thrumming of the transport's electrical hum and moving parts. The weight that was creating it was heavier than a krogan, but was barely registering any sound.

_I know that walk!_ Garrus charged to the back hatch and activated the door.

He looked over the hatch's balcony as he hit the bay's light switch, and confirmed a reality that shouldn't have been real.

The Master Chief deftly turned his head towards the balcony, looking as though he was giving the ship a cursory glance instead of having just owned an entire raiding party. The gold of his visor gleamed from the lights placid reflection, giving a surreal contrast against the turret cannon he held in both hands, silently boiling away the snow that covered its overheated barrel.

"Remaining ships secure. I have the uninjured marines disabling the ship IFFs to delay any more incursions. Legion is still providing cover." The Master Chief spoke sparingly. "Orders?"

"Ugh… my marines?" Reegar approached the balcony, tentative for the first time since Garrus had met him.

"Second ship on the port side."

"Reegar… check on your men while I get the salvage crews ready to depart. I'll get the flood lights reactivated to give Third Escort a clear LZ, and we'll pick up Legion with the last bird to lift off." Garrus spoke quickly as he descended the stairs.

"… is… Team A… your… Are you alright?" Tali's voice clearing up as the raiders disembarked her site, taking their signal jammer's envelopment with them. "What's your status, Team Alpha? We took some light injuries, and Wind Fire is okay, I think. Raiders have completely withdrawn from this location and we're preparing to evac back to the Ascension."

"Roger that, we're clear here as well. Third Escort will be in contact with you shortly to coordinate pickup." Garrus sending the 'all clear' signal to the shuttles. Reegar hustled down the ramp as he went to check his marines, while Garrus stepped off for the Kowloon. "Wait… Master Chief, hold these prisoners until I return."

"Understood."

Garrus restarted his way outside as he rolled what had just happened through his head. Prisoner detail was pretty lightweight for someone who had just pulled their collective asses out of the fire, but he didn't seem the sort to deny any duty given to him.

He trod around several corpses as he shuffled to the generator, recognizing a few of them from him and Reegar's charge, and clicked a few select switches on the distribution board to 'on'.

Like a blind man regaining his vision, the dark and haze of the night began to ignite in dim splotches as the frozen lights charged up, repainting the frozen tundra with a far darker tone from just ten minutes earlier. Bodies were strewn everywhere on the field, many laying in long swathes from where their positions had broken and run, their firing lines seemingly torn apart from a beast reaching out from the dark and consuming them whole.

The silhouettes of the dead were telling; the oval shape of krogan humps, the acute angle of vorcha shoulder pads, and the numerous supine forms with only their helmets and weapons to break up the outline of their death pose; human and batarian corpses mostly, with the occasional turian in the mix.

Garrus focused on a transport's body covered ramp nearby, where the Master Chief had caught the landing party off guard as they had just begun disembarking the ship; only two or three of them had reached the ground as their bodies rolled down the decline. The tell-tale roar of its half-powered thrusters said the command crew had been half through an emergency take off when he'd reached their cabin.

It had taken him a five day siege on Omega to reap this kind of carnage, so much of which had been streamed to him compliments of his bridge. Jane had her suicidal level of courage and unstoppable momentum when she fought with, he brought a science and refinement to the death he doled out, and even Urdnot Wrex, who was a living definition of focused carnage, and all the amazing warriors he'd happened upon in his voyages with Shepard, they had all left their own signature on a battle field.

In the end, it had been the synergy of the _team_ itself that made their contribution so redoubtable.

But this… he didn't have words that could describe it or even make it sound plausible.

Probably on the same order as hijacking gunships midair after ten thousand foot falls through snow storms.

Garrus focused on the Kowloon as he ran the next ten minutes of operations through his head, picturing the breakdown of salvagers with marines to keep them calm after such an ordeal, a quick coordination with Wind Fire to keep air cover over everyone, and the dozens of details to include while trying to see two steps ahead.

If only the quarians were actually behaving like the scared children he'd pictured, his plan would have been acceptable, but that they were already breaking off into teams to salvage the downed gunships was very intriguing.

"Marine… what gives?" Garrus walked up to a marine conspicuously armed with a Claymore shotgun, a marine he knew had been seized by the raiders' in the second wave. "Call back everyone! Third escort will be here in minutes and we can't protect everyone after…"

"Master Chief's orders, Vakarian, sir. He said salvage was still our objective and that he'd be providing security while the wounded were being evacuated, so I came here to get the salvagers moving."

"Wait, what?"

"Just what I said, sir. They'd hauled our asses into their ship, all chained up in the bay, and they had their medic tend to us. Then we started hearing a gun battle outside get closer and closer when _BOOM!_ The Chief came flying up the ramp from outside and kills all the guards, and I mean he'd punched one krogan's head right into the back of his hump, and then throws me _this_ without missing a beat." The marine hoisted the Claymore up with a grunt. "He took care of the bridge crew, passed on his orders after making sure we were okay, and then went to find you, sir. The whole thing didn't take him two minutes."

"And the salvagers are fine wandering around a corpse ridden battlefield minutes after they were attacked?"

"We're made out of sturdier stuff than people realize. I was working eezo fields with my dad when I was twelve, and everyone here has a story like mine. And well… the Chief's here. After I told them what happened, everyone feels safe now."

"Oh… how nice." Garrus feeling a bit emasculated. "Carry on then."

Garrus turned back to coordinating the shuttles with a touch of angst, looking on as the salvagers got to work. Burning fuel cells were extinguished quickly, salvage piles were policed, and a quick suggestion from a quarian supervisor had him requesting authorization to use the raiders' own transports to get the gunships back to the Ascension.

The transports might come in handy in future ventures like this.

And every so often a green juggernaut appeared on the outskirts of the field, patrolling in the marines stead, having quietly changed his station without airs. The usually ant-like frenzy of the quarians' work paused to look at him as he patrolled nearby, the fear and respect that had surrounded him aboard the Ascension now taking a different shape. That of protector… and of a saviour.

With a pause between the shuttle sorties and shuffling of the batarian prisoners aboard the transports, Reegar found his way back to Garrus, listening to Legion reporting skies empty of any threat since the raiders' withdrawal fifteen minutes earlier. His marines were all accounted for, and safe other than the inevitable infections from the suit ruptures. He had to admit that the raiders were very 'Johnny on the spot' with the first aid to make sure their merchandise didn't die unnecessarily.

He'd also been hearing his marines talk, seen the new reverie they and the rest of his people looked at the Chief with… and had just finished the body count as the dead were policed.

"Tin Can is the last one for pickup?" Reegar broke the awkward silence with a rhetorical question. "Oh… what the hell, Garrus? Like five minutes ago we were wrestling krogan to the death, wasting bad guys, and had great big, hairy balls. Then it's all "Oh, but the Master Chief's here now!" "We don't need to worry about a counter-attack, _he'll _protect us!" Reegar making air quotations as he talked.

"Then I feel like a dick for comparing dicks… Keelah." Reegar crossed his arms as he looked up at the sky, still impregnable any view beyond fifty feet with the flood lights turned on. "But that was still pretty bitching, jumping through that mess onto a gunship. Hierarchy got any doctrine on ship seizure that includes atmosphere insertion? We sure as hell don't."

"Then air-to-air combat, mid-air collisions and annihilating a company's worth of Terminus slavers in the time it takes to boil an egg… nope, never seen a training vid that would cover that." Garrus chuckled. "He is pretty easy to understand, though. Won't kill anyone that's unarmed, he'll kill humans when they're the enemy, and won't abandon his objective; a soldier through and through."

"Or a walking nuke." The two soldiers began making their way to their assigned shuttle as the last transport took off, the ship itself even more valuable than the gunship salvage it now carried. "And now we know he's on our side, thank the Ancestors."

"No… no, I think we just clued into the fact we're on _his_ side." Garrus smiled.

Just like a certain human Spectre he knew. Someone that was always on the right path, it just took everyone else a while to realize it.

He'd definitely have to put the Chief's tactical footage into a presentation for the higher-ups, because Spirits help you if you thought explaining something like this would convince anyone. Plus, Jay'em would over the moon.

And Kal' Reegar… brazen, confident, and couldn't be kept down. He definitely had the right stuff.

Other than a few bruised egos and light injuries, this was a good day for Anvil, the Ascension, and everyone onboard.

Today, they became a team.


	13. Expo

Mass Effect belongs to Bio ware and Halo belongs to 343 Industries.

* * *

Miranda wasn't usually this at peace when watching her own handwork come together, but after the shit storm she'd just spent the last two months enduring on Arcturus Minor, she was content to kick back and watch her two spokesmen handling it.

Well, Shepard's spokesmen, if she cared enough to think about it. They'd be out of the locker room in just minutes.

Just dropping Shepard's name had gotten them the Armali Arena for a week, and renovating this pithy little shit pit from concession stands and soda stained floors into something that could represent a galactic conglomerate had cost her for than its fair share sleepless nights.

Mixing this work in with the bourgeois idiocy the Alliance Requisition Committee kept throwing up at every time she tried to get their new hardware on Tuchanka for the Alliance Expeditionary Force, having the elite of every Council race's military and industrial showing up on her door step may just give them the kick in the ass they needed.

And a kick in the ass it would be with Admiral Hackett here, sombrely watching the other representatives with his staff officers at his side. Then there was Primarch Fedorian of the Turian Hierarchy, Matriarch Aetheta of the Asari Republics… word of what Clan Urdnot was pulling off despite its being outnumbered five to one was making waves everywhere.

The Shadow Broker herself had seen to it root footage was "leaked" onto the Extranet of what was happening onTuchanka; Cortana's contribution beyond the R + D was the ridiculous stock growth Achea had been posting, which was spreading more like a virus than a financial marker.

Miranda took a deep swig of her champagne and returned her glass to the server's platter, deftly grabbing another as she leaned against the balcony railing.

Then there they were, dressed to the nines in the foyer below, the two people that were about to usher in the next generation of technology to the galaxy.

Ratch, a krogan warrior and Urdnot's senior supply officer, and Shiala, an asari commando and former retainer of Lady Benezia, both entering the exhibition hall and heading towards the small arms kiosk as the crowd of naval officers and bigwigs parted before them.

Ratch walked straight to the platoon of armoured dummies in the corner as Shiala quietly stood to the side, watching him pick his Graal shotgun off its stand and turn towards the props.

His shotgun erupted without him saying a word, betraying the swathe of guests that hadn't put in their ear defenders as they bolted in pain; he kept laying on the trigger without respite as the armoured dummies were chewed up by the barbed spikes of his Graal.

The firing should have stopped at three shots, but no, four, five, six, until the crowd stopped counting shots and started counting the minutes of his salvo; after the four minute mark, a trigger pull was only given a click instead of a boom in response. Ratch turned to the crowd with a smile.

"The first thing I wanted to show you, I just have. The second thing I wanted to show you…" Ratch pulled on the Graal's undercarriage and popped the ammo slug, now stripped to its mounting pin. "All the punch of a thermal clip coupled with longevity of the last generation's self-cooling small arms. Thanks to this…" Ratch ejected a white cylinder from the thermal slot and held it up.

"Ionized endothermic reciprocation. That's fancy talk for when the gun's ion stream feeds on the same heat it's built to manage. You could call it an "ion clip" like the stuffed shirts do, or you could call it an ass kicker like all of Clan Urdnot already does. The third thing is that everyone in this room will be dead and buried before this clip reaches its chemical half-life." Ratch held the shotgun up to a female Alliance officer with a big smile on his face. "And the fourth thing is this. Go ahead, love. Touch the barrel and tell everyone what you think."

Amidst some chortling and surprised gasps, the woman gave a lopsided smile and reached for the muzzle after licking her thumb, eager to show her mettle. She pressed it to the metal without a word and it held for a moment with crowd in total silence, only to smile wider as she wrapped her entire hand around the muzzle.

"Not. Even. Hot." She replied slowly as the crowd applauded.

Ratch continued once the clapping died down. "Once you've seen what there is to see here today, there won't be any going back. But what we also know is that'll take time, time that will cost lives. So, after the expo, come have a chat with old Ratch; Achea has made enough ion clips for every service rifle and sidearm your armies have, and have transports ready to fly… all pro bono."

Ratch laughed heartily at the line of wide eyes in front of him, unbelieving that anyone would hand out hardware worth tens of billions of credits for nothing.

Not for nothing, Miranda knew. Mommy and Daddy back at home would see little Johnny with the new toys and feel at ease. The bad guys would see them and start shitting their pants. Finally, everyone wetting their lips here would get a taste and want even more. Just a sample tray in the grocery store, really.

"After my companion's presentation this evening, everything the Extranet has been taunting you onlookers with from Tuchanka will be available at the firing range to my right. The Proteus Small Arms Initiative, the Laconic Defensive Suite, and even Clan Urdnot's favourite toy for close quarters battle." Ratch pulled a lopsided device out from behind a weapon stand. "The gravity hammer, or the Berserker, as my fellow warriors have named her."

The device's handle was barely longer than the gravity plant at the weapon's mast, made for the smaller arch of a krogan's swing than a true Brute's. Everyone watched in silence as he walked up to the industrial cargo container behind the dummy platoon, slowly shifting their position behind the velvet rope to get a better look.

These containers had been many soldiers' best cover in close quarter fighting, even Shepard's experience was no exception. Built to endure ship destruction, the vacuum of space, and even terrestrial gravity many times that of Earth, these babies shrugged off fire power easily; the pock marks of the Graal's fire on its side attested to the fact personal weaponry wasn't enough to deal with an enemy taking cover behind one.

Ratch grabbed the Berserker with both hands as he swung it back, the gravity plant crackling with an electric haze as he threw his muscle into the strike. The back blast of the horizontal gravity-well knocked the last of the armoured dummies over as the wave rippled over them and into the crowd, a flutter of service caps and shattered champagne glasses followed in its wake as it spat past them and into balcony above, sparing no one in the arena a taste of its power.

Martial austerity and bravado, however, wouldn't let anyone in the crowd be shaken. Nothing overt, of course, just easy smiles and easier laughter as they dusted themselves off; the hardboiled diplomacy all soldiers employ when around other soldiers, ally or enemy.

"And how did I walk away without popping a seam, you ask?" Ratch sauntered back to the crowd with the Berserker over his shoulder. "That this thing could roll a Troika on its side, but that doesn't matter to who wields it; so long as they keep just one hand on the buffering pads, the Berserker will keep them safe while turning their enemy into paste."

Ratch held the Berserker up the onlookers, displaying the switch under his thumb that had activated the hammer's safety suite, its power shimmering down its mast to envelop him during the discharge.

"And now… my lovely partner." Ratch gave an over gracious curtsy towards the stage.

The stage's holo-projector flooded the stage with incandescent white as the auditorium's lighting faded to black, the sound system slowly creeping up in intensity until the sounds of battle rippled to a crescendo… and the sound and images painfully familiar.

"**Sovereign's too strong, we have to pull back!"**

"**Negative, this is our only chance! Take that monster down no matter what the cost!" **Hackett's unwavering voice rising above the clamour of ship captains and the droning of the VI announcing the faltering fleet status.

The Battle of the Citadel took on a new perspective as the image switched to the battle as it was seen from one of the ward arms, filming the bombardment that the combined fleets were pouring onto the Reapers' vanguard; even the cameraman's shaking hands couldn't distract anyone from the two kilometer long sentinel absorbing the fire with seeming impunity.

There was no sound of the battle as it raged, only the weeping and cries of disbelief from the cameraman's fellow onlookers as the Citadel ships exploded; right until a particle beam from Sovereign slashed through the cruiser it was aimed at and crashed into the ward towards the mystery cameraman, ending the film footage in screams of pain and sideways movement as the blast threw everyone and everything around them sideways.

The image slowly turned from the battle into a three meter outline of a Reaper, a Sovereign class capital ship noticeably missing its nose tentacle… Harbinger. From behind its images of the other Reaper armada began to appear, until they poured over the heads of everyone in the auditorium; everyone was covered in the image's red light as the holographs finally reached the walls, bubbling downward from the ceiling as their numbers became too great to expand side by side, becoming a cloud of synthetic avatars floating above the crowd in the thousands… the true number expected for the invasion.

Then, the avatars slowly began to fade, returning everyone to the blackness as the image of Harbinger finally vanished.

In the darkness they stayed, just long enough for them to wander what was going on when a shimmer appeared overhead, a small and strobing pinhead of light descending from the ceiling towards the stage.

It ignited just feet from the floor, flushing outwards into a kaleidoscope of blue and white clouds before the crowd.

"**I… am your shield."** A woman's ghostly image spoke from the shimmering mist.

It quickly flowed into a dusty hue as the image turned into a Tuchankan battlefield. A camera's-eye view of an Urdnot warrior appeared next, caught charging into a doorway as a sticky grenade plunked dead center of his chest, blowing the camera out of position as it exploded.

The camera eased back into its hover position as it readjusted, focusing back on the charred building entrance as laughter was heard off camera; a quick turn of the lens found that same warrior alive, albeit blown seventy feet away from doorway, laughing hysterically as he stared at the mauled shotgun in his hand… while he was completely unscathed.

A murmur of disbelief rose from the crowd as this warrior roused himself and charged back towards the door.

That blast should have been enough to kill an entire squad, only to be undone by one soldier's personal shielding? No way was that an eezo-based kinetic field; if not by how much devastation it had just shrugged off, then certainly by how its paralleled shielding had kept his hand intact and not his shotgun.

"**I… am your sword."** The woman's voice returned as gave another image to the Tuchankan War.

This time an observation drone circling a heavy armour formation, the red and white icon of clan Urdnot blazing against the black onyx hulls.

The newly arrived "Arbiter" battle tanks, these variety clearly built to accommodate the bulk of its krogan operators. These machines were unlike anything else deployed anywhere in the galaxy, or any time in their recorded history.

Like it or not, the basic design of the fighting vehicles barely strayed from the same basic pattern; four or six heels, supped up accelerator cannon, and maybe some anti-personnel weapons for variety.

But these Arbiter tanks… the sight of them spewing volley after volley of plasma fire over the city rubble, seeing the target buildings bubble and smoke from the superheated convection before splash down. Then to see the rubble melt away as though it was plastic.

The tanks' particle phalanx opened up into sliver muzzle flashes as a swarm of assault drones flew through the smoke, their combined fire easily cutting down the barrage of contact missiles before the drones were dealt the same fate.

A single smoking drone reached the tanks, without even touching the hull as the shimmer of the tank's shield revealed itself.

"**Is this the way the world ends?"** The voice spoke a final time, the Arbiter tanks faded back to Harbinger's avatar above the stage, only to turn to a woman's ghostly image slowly took the stage back; letting the room hang in silence as they looked at her visage, slow to realize the arena lights had slowly been brought back to full intensity.

"Friends." Shiala's voice gently brought the room's attention to her. "Just two samples of what lies in wait. Both I and Ratch will be here until every question is answered, even it brings us to the dawn. But before every ware is made available to you, we want your doubt dispelled; we are both representatives of a business organization, organizations that have long twisted the truth to attain what they want."

"We asked one person of both notable integrity and of diligence to reveal our last showpiece to you, so you know we come from a place of refuge and not lies." Shiala smiled as she waved everyone toward the arena's back wall as its screen flickered to life, revealing a woman in a hard-suit walking along in space's vacuum, her magnetic boots keeping her attached to some surface below the camera's view.

"Good day, high and mighty of the Citadel races." A woman's voice sounded over the speakers.

A familiar voice to anyone dealing with the Citadel's revamped bureaucracy for the last two years.

"This Emily Wong reporting live from the Arcturus system, sitting on top of the newest, biggest friggin' stick to be found anywhere in the galaxy." Emily patted the metal ground at her feet. "They just wanted to give everyone assurance that the whole "big gun without kickback" problem had been solved, so they turned to yours truly to make sure everything was on the up-and-up for in the unveiling."

"Until now, missiles have been any space station's only real option, or at best covered by ground side atmospheric cannons. Even in a perfect world with a dreadnought giving it cover fire, these shells are the greatest punch they had to offer." Emily produced a twenty kilo slug from her hip bag and let it hang in the zero gravity, looking more like an oversized soup can than a weapon. "Accelerated to one to one point five percent of light speed and packing kilotons worth of firepower, hundreds of these shells fired by our fleets during the Battle of the Citadel weren't enough to deal with a Sovereign class Reaper. Bravery simply can't overcome such a shortcoming in firepower."

"So, enter Achea and their big bag of tricks to save the day. If you've been curious about what I've been standing on all this time, this is the two kilometer long main-gun of a Super-Mac Orbital Platform. And if any of you Alliance jocks want to validate this happening in real time, just make a request for video coverage from the Arcturus Dispatch while I'm talking you through this." Emily waved towards Arcturus station as her camera panned left towards it; a classic "Emily Wong" touch that concreted her coverage as it was happening, that instead of dealing with naysayers for years to come about viability.

"If you're wondering where this is going, this baby will spell it out nice and clear." The camera panned right as Emily leaned up against what appeared to be a seventy foot long torpedo, easily twice as wide as she was tall. "This is a three thousand ton ferric-tungsten slug, to be accelerated by this MAC gun at forty percent light speed at five second intervals."

Miranda allowed herself a rare giggle as the wave of awe rippled through the crowd; this announcement was tantamount to when the laws of aerodynamics had been rewritten in the early twenty first century.

Physic as they were understood now dictated that to fire a projectile with that kind of force meant throwing whatever launched it backwards with equal power… but not anymore.

Eezo had been a lynch pin discovery for every spacefaring species in the galaxy; no technology was the same after this strange mineral was happened upon.

But once this "miracle mineral" had been discovered, people had simply stopped searching for mechanical or technological solutions that weren't based in it, the advantages too great and too convenient to do otherwise.

Only now, knowing the true masters of this technology were the Reapers, that they understood the need to look elsewhere.

"But before this baby opens up for your viewing pleasure, I've asked a favour from Adm. Hackett and the Sixth Fleet. Admiral?" Emily gave an impish salute as the camera panned to space above the Super Mac, right into the teeth of the Sixth Fleet holding position several kilometers off the station.

Dreadnoughts, a carrier, cruisers, and everything that made up an entire fleet, even their patrol frigates seemed to have been recalled from their Attican routes to attend. To see something of this magnitude without a war on would have meant some major favours pulled.

All eyes turned to Hackett as he tapped his omni's voice control.

"Admiral Hackett to Sixth Fleet. Thirty seconds of independent fire on my mark." He spoke calmly. "Fire."

The muzzle flashes of a hundred guns ignited as the cascade of hyper-sped slugs flew at the MAC gun, the shells erupting off the platform's shield in the same nanosecond as their acceleration. Emily Wong stood in the foreground of the camera's view as the megatons of destruction pelted against the station's barrier a hundred meters above her, with her body language looking as indifferent to the barrage as the station's seemingly impervious defenses.

At the twenty-five second mark the shower of shells halted, long enough for the naked eye to see the entire body of the Sixth Fleet's fighter escort baring down at the station, a buzzing swarm of hundreds squeezed between the fleet's fields of fire to bring their disruptor torpedoes into range.

At six missiles apiece, the forward fighter wave's salvo became a blue sun as the missiles' propellant burned, their intensity blinding as the missiles concentrated above Wong's position.

Just as it was before, they fell short of the station as their plumes of dark energy rippled into space, followed by another wave and another; the timing of the barrages was perfect as each explosion was replaced by barrage in its stead, creating a stewing black and blue cloud of dark energy that was powerless against its target.

Emily Wong again stood her ground beneath the carnage flashed above her, only now nodding her head to the camera and waving her arm in the air like she was cheering on at a rave.

As the last second of the fleet's firing window closed, the fog of spent propellant and metallic dust hung above the MAC platform as the solar wind buffed it away, the white and blue of the Alliance colours popping up in the distance as the fleet began to withdraw.

No "oohs" or "ahhs" from the crowd this time, only silence as they absorbed what had just happened. Even Sovereign's shielding had swayed temporarily when disruptor torpedoes had been concentrated on a focal point, even if there hadn't been enough cruisers available to exploit the advantage.

"Well gang, yours truly wouldn't here if the shielding didn't do as advertised. You probably figured out this thing can wrangle with a Reaper, but there's even more to this Super MAC than that. They're talking defenses that handle Reapers right through warding off nano-mech incursions, explaining how their own counter-fire can get through the shielding, and a whole other slew of goodies… but I'm guessing you're going to have buy one before the tell you how." Emily giggled. "The one thing that caught my eye, as far as strategy was concerned, was this station's belly guns and the High Atmosphere Artillery Coverage concept they're introducing, which will provide ground side firepower to any army while the fleets are chasing the bad guys to the other end of the galaxy."

"So, I'm outta here. But don't go far. 'Cause that planet?" She pointed to a moon of the Arcturus sun as the Super MAC began to align the main gun towards it. "It's going to be dust in about five minutes."

The auditorium exploded in applause and whistles as Emily Wong signed off and the countdown timer appeared on the screen's face, letting everyone bubble for several minutes as the caterers slid between guests with fresh drinks.

Their minds were officially blown now, because being impressed was so two minutes ago.

At least sixty percent of any fleet was spoken for by colonial patrolling, it was a pipe dream to believe any fleet would launch at full strength, lest the home front be ravaged by the enemy while the only people that could protect it were half a galaxy away. But to have a Super MAC in atmosphere, maybe even a battle cluster of them to cover a solar system, both sailors and civilians had the peace of mind they both needed.

Miranda quietly rolled her glass between her fingers as she waited, watching the flurry of excited chatter around her as they bubbled and brewed. One figure with an entourage had made its way up the stairs to her amidst the brew-ha-ha, though.

"Admiral."

"Director."

"Please pass our thanks along to Anderson when you see him again. The Council can be so uptight about destroying planets without a schedule." Miranda spoke blithely as Hackett leaned on the balcony beside her. "Last favour of our first Councillor?"

"Not at all, Director. Favour for a favour." Hackett crossed his arms. "We want our supraluminal before the week is out. Anderson would ask you this himself, but he has some business he's tending to on Omega."

"Dear man doesn't waste time does he?" Miranda took another sip of wine, dribbling on herself slightly as she smiled. Udina was Councillor now, with Anderson back in uniform and already raising hell.

A prototype supraluminal star craft… that was one hell of a gift basket to the Alliance make this firepower display happen. No more conventional faster-than-light for the Citadel fleets from now on.

The simplest explanation on how a supraluminal drive worked? If an ant were to crawl on a piece of paper from end to the other, the ant would need so many minutes to travel that exact distance depending on how fast it could move.

If the ant had a supraluminal drive with it, the drive would crumple the paper into a ball until the destination was at the ants feet, and once the ant had crossed the threshold with a few steps, the drive would let the paper snap right back into its original shape.

Now, think of that piece of paper as space time, and you've got it.

So, the more power a supraluminal had, the bigger the "sheet of paper" it could crumple and the tighter a ball it could make it. Point-to-point travel with only days of travel between the galaxy's furthest points within millimeters of its destination point… and completely free of the mass relay system.

"We'll have one made available, Admiral. It'll be earmarked for him when he gets to Arcturus Minor." Neither party faced each other while they jumped around the burning questions. "That'll be about two days, yes?"

"Well, doesn't that restores my faith in the Directorate's discretion."

"Not at all, Admiral. Any organization with two brain cells to rub together knows you can buy the same secret for half the price on that piss-hole. Ask your own network." Miranda let the last few drops all from her glass to the floor. "And we can't protect our assets without knowing the path they're taking can we?"

Hackett half-grinned at the comment, but gave his entourage a sombre look that sent them away by his next breathe.

"Director… we've just learned about the STG espionage campaign you crippled last week. I'm not entire sure what to make of how Achea handled it, though."

Miranda laughed outright at the thought. "Oh, as a member of the Directorate I can't take full credit for that salarian comedy of errors. That was the CEO's little trap; you can reassure any of your Union counterparts that their agents will be returned as soon as the land-lease for Gellix is signed."

"Turians have had their heels dug in about that planet since the Rebellions, just on principle. Now you have the Dalatrass convincing them to make it a quarian industrial colony? You believe she'll actually pull it off?"

"She'd better."

"Director, salarians have short lives, but long memories. They're not going to forget this." Hackett turned and put both his hands on the balcony railing. "And they're not the only ones gunning for you. This technology is going to undermine about sixty percent of all heavy industry in the galaxy, and the bounties they'll pay to learn how you're doing this is getting as large as they are desperate. Achea is what is going to see us through the Reaper invasion, and I don't like that it's all hanging by a thread."

"The greatest undertakings are always a hair away from failure, Admiral. You know that as sure as anyone could."

Hackett grinned and pushed himself off the balcony slowly.

"Yeah, I know… sure as hell doesn't mean I have to like it, Director. In the meantime, I'll keep as many of our allies as I can assured that this is what's best for them." Hackett waved his hand towards auditorium floor. "You and Shepard just keep doing what you do."

"One last thing." Hackett asked before he stepped off. "When am I going meet this CEO of yours?"

"Oh, you've seen the CEO, Admiral." Miranda purred. "I'll personally introduce you once the Council passes the Sentient Rights Bill."

After? Hackett knew there was a hook that spoke to something deep and damaging that couldn't be revealed yet, but he just nodded and walked away. But that was the trust he put in Shepard's work.

Of course, with Cortana posing herself as Achea's business emblem for kicks…

Preparations would have to be made for if this was found out.

Miranda turned back to the auditorium screen as the lights began to fade, beckoning the crowd towards it. In just a few minutes, they'd see that planet's tectonic plates shattered like corn flakes and sucked in by the gravity of the Arcturus sun.

How did she get here? Turning tricks for a conglomerate started by a xeno-cybernetic construct while still the right hand of the Alliance Directorate? After all, she just wanted to throw the damn thing out the air lock.

_Well, here's to you. _Miranda raised her empty glass to Achea's logo. _You digital bitch._


End file.
